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I've come at behest
of the night, as her guest,
I am succored, caressed
By the dark, in this nest.
I've been buffeted, stressed--
Now the night soothes me, lest
I forget I am blessed.
I'll continue my quest
...but not without rest.
It has been from suppressed
resignation; assessed
better not to contest
what's forgone; I suggest
that's why I've been depressed.
Now I shed and divest
All I've won or possessed
('Things' were never my best.)
But I've often confessed
that without this bequest
I would not have progressed,
not divined that I'm blessed.
I would never have guessed
this elation, this zest
that was never addressed,
though alive in my breast,
was my true treasure chest,
my divine manifest--
By such boon to be blessed!
'Til my heart beats arrest,
while there's breath in my chest,
this be my mortal quest:
To engage at the crest--
...but not without rest.
All's a jest, just a jest--
Nonetheless, I am blessed.
