Hold my hands as god's hands, for even
god trembles, and servants grow weary
without brief respite; do I ask of myself
more than what god desires? For my dreams
are too real to keep to the night

or the comfort of shadows -- yet how do I speak
when the voice has grown weary, and
my footsteps are slow. Do I seek a reprieve?
I am burdened by silence; yet to burn
in your purpose is all I desire.

I am fearful of sleep, for years are not time
to fulfill what's been promised, nor learn
what you know -- yet I follow your steps
like a map of this valley, and a path
through these acres of wilderness, grown.

I am compelled by your love;

though rest does not find me

I lie, for my peace is your peace.