Blessed by Stress

When the days of our lives start to bring too much stress,
Hope is stretched out of form and it seems just a mess,
Ev'ry thought of the mind is a search for relief,
ev'ry wind that doth blow brings a little more grief.
When we're grasping for straws and achieving but air,
there's a feeling in kind, "Will we know only care?"

When the light seems but dark and the way is unclear,
when our leaders seem lost to the things we hold dear,
Ev'ry mental distress is together a mount,
all the dryness of throat goeth searching for fount.
When we're losing all hope in the rulers we see,
We may ask in despair, "What's my vote mean to me?"

When the best of our choice is a substantive rout,
When the words, that they use cause no hope but great doubt,
Ev'ry heart in each chest stirs about for one thing,
for some piece of sweet rest, that will cause us to sing.
When we search for a man or a woman to win,
in the mind we do think of the stalwart, not sin!

On one day spake a man in the ages of old,
who was Jotham, the sage with a story so bold,
Went forth trees in a time they to seek for a king,
to the olive they spake, "We to throne you would bring!"
Then the olive replied, "Should I leave all my best
to inhabit your chair, make your throne be quite blessed?"
To the fig they went next, "Come and reign over us!"
"Should I leave all my sweet and ascend o'er you thus?"
Then to vine they did group and with him they did plead,
"Should I leave all my wine, just for you now to bleed?"

Although thwarted they were and then twice yet betimes,
then they tried yet again with sweet voices as chimes,
"Hail, Thee, Bramble, so fair in thy wandering ways!
Would thee king be for us, on thy visage to gaze?"
"If in truth ye anoint me to king over you,
then ye come and put trust in the shade I imbue,
"And if not, let the fire out of bramble yet blaze,
to consume all the trees of the land all our days!"
You may read all this truth in the ancient book fair
of the Judges of Jacob in the land over there.

When there's stress on the petal of rose, that is red,
the perfume cometh out to the nose, that be led,
With great pressure the coal becomes diamond, a gem,
in the fire opens cone to seed forest, again.
Mayhaps nation of stress will find strength from the core
to give faith to our GOD as the Founders before.

There's a hope to be found, when we're looking aright!
There's but One, Who's The Way and The Truth and The Light!
No, He's not Doctor Suess, though the Suess gave us fun,
He is not even K-nu, who thinks he's The One,
The One, Who brings Hope, that is free without price,
He is Jesus, The LORD, Who's the soon-coming Christ!

Line Count: 50

By Jay O'Toole
on October17, 2016