Like a stream that ebbs and flows
Man's spirit waxes and wanes
Without that which is holy and eternal
Mortals cannot help but perish
Discernment, that much sought-after gift
Clarity, the one for whom men stumble in the
Fog and mist of Desire and Pain,
Rest, for the search is over
Decades of seeking, blinded by Frustration's tears
Years of looking, stung by Suffering's vines
Months of foraging, scourged by Temptation's thorns
A second of finding, will I allow Comfort in?
Wisdom, the folly of men!
Knowledge, the stone upon which they fall!
Pride, the sin that convicts millions!
Grace, the eternal gift sufficient for all
