Poverty Of Souls Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Working frustratingly slow, thinking of the poverty of
our souls.
Wantonly reaching degrees of safety far apart on
different horizons within.
Placating moments of searching begins to stir and mount
resistance to thoughts growing out of control.
Severe weathering, blasting away at interior peace, all
the while beginning to feel calm.
Being undecided in many facets of life, when within
God's presence we think and make ourselves known.