A Mouse Called Intrepid

Two flasks of sweetened herbal drink,
To warm me in the cold,
My crystal staff to help me think,
When traipsing cross the wold.

My hat of twine patched up with leaves,
My ears poking through,
A sprig of thyme in hanging sheaves,
My coat an olive hue.

The twisting ages scattered long,
The lime green pallete bright,
I wander ever, na’er belong,
Neath starlight dotted white.

Stray parts of Adam, still alive,
Despite the judgement set,
Small shoots that somehow do survive,
And blossom through regret.

The shape of hope is fragile small,
Old Adam cannot die,
Eternal hell a bitter thrall,
With sadness in my eye.

Into a forest wilderness,
Of trauma and dismay,
The touch of death a cold caress,
That marks this shadow play.

The groves in dappled sunlight cast,
My shadow trailing smooth,
From light to night, in soft delight—
Her gentleness dost soothe.

Traversing plains in lovely green,
Neath trees in grandeur tall,
A ghost forgot and now unseen,
And whisper-small my call.

I cast my mind to memory,
And think on age old love,
Enraptured in my reverie,
In tune with gods above.

I hearken to the wood grouse call,
Her earnest cooing charm,
The nesting birds in treetops tall,
The sky — an ocean calm.

I go, I go without remorse,
Since love is greatest still,
Across the plain with feeble force,
The endless road my thrill.

A traveller who knows the cross,
A mouse in size, but true,
God’s final judgement — bitter loss,
Still, Jesus, I love You!

ADL