It’s a busy day; it’s a busy dust of time
Its’ all been very busy ever
So never was calm or quite hereafter
As it was a little more that could satisfy your soar
But, out it went abroad to never make you stop
All for now, all that is rolling and heaving
More and more would that the tempest be
What a damp of grief meant for
Why would sun run short of day?
Yes, it asks; oh where it goes along the shore?
Prizes are won, culprit gets the bar
Ships sails too far and sky has tiny stars
Where would they all meet in the end of the day?
Where would you see such a day to stage your valley?
Out of the weird age do you find your rally?
Too far that you have known
These days comes after long
When you find yourself resting at home
So when you pick the known flower
And smell the savor of sweet hour
as your day hardens and hardens
Remember the taste of solitude that forever stays
And Jesus’s Kingdom is where I find my rest…