I search Thee out,
Down boulevards of thought.
Elusive, Thou art and art not there.
It is, in truth, my own undisciplined mind,
Powerless - or weakly able -
To stay upon the Sublime,
That slips off the curb,
Stumbles in the gutter,
And up again.
I will stay myself upon Thee.
Hold Thou, I pray, on to me.
Linda Hyde
unpublished copyright, 2008
Sister Hyde,
ReplyDeleteI stumbled upon your blog from Evan's & started reading from the beginning. I just had to stop and say, I LOVE this poem! and I'm eager to read the rest of your writings!
Eve