PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE

PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE

Patience is a virtue, but it comes hard for me,
Just like a lost mariner adrift upon the sea.
Weary from his travels, longing so for home,
As he stares into the distance, seeing nothing but the foam.

I raise my hand to greet the day,
But the words I speak get in the way,
And I am lost in promises and pools of good intentions.
Patience is an angry god, I cannot get his attention.

I have dared to shake an angry fist,
I have met my Maker fair,
And begged for him to take me
Through the clouds or anywhere.

But all he does is chortle quietly, shrug his shoulders at the sun.
Your life and all its sin and vice is just the same as anyone’s.
How dare you push the envelope, how dare you challenge me?
Life’s bitter reason and its rhyme, will be revealed in my good time.
And he flings his arm dismissively, happy to be done,
And goes back to his games and his godly fun,
With this word of counsel, have patience, my son.

Yet patience is a virtue that I do not possess,
I clamor in my underclothes for evening’s sweet caress.
And with life I wage my daily war, desperate for a truce,
This disease it wreaks its havoc and I wonder what’s the use.

Patience is a virtue, but it comes hard for me,
Just like those lost mariners adrift upon the sea,
Weary from my travels, longing so for home,
Staring lost into the distance, seeing only foam.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED