"Hope deferred makes the heart grow sick,"
But Hopelessness seems faithful; true; sincere.
While Life through darkened billow beckons "Come!",
The heart finds haven under Fear.
Content, the heart, to stay within
The walls of that which he has always known.
But Life, intent on making much of Love,
Insists the heart be made his own.
Says Love, the Wise and Humble One,
The heart is not content to simply hear.
Yet hearing joined with sight, and sight with taste
Shall cause the heart to venture near.
So Life goes to the door of Fear,
The light of Love around him shone,
To lead the heart with kindness; bands of love
Through darkness to a better home.