There is a welcome weakness in my soul
which plagues me from some water’s lonely edge.
It drives between my heart and me a wedge
and makes my story incompletely whole.
To see me in my life, you’d never know
such crippledness and broken veins have been
the bane of me (which none have ever seen).
For joy and secret streams enhance my flow.
Somehow, I’ve learned across the arc of time
that weakness is not something I should shun.
For pride is by humility outdone:
Such is the lesson blazoned in this rhyme.
Thank God such thorns are just a passing dream!
This makes all pains feel much less than they seem.
© Alan Morrison, 2018