It's not so hard to be at peace
With all grim spectres far abroad.
My home, my haven, my heaven.

The burden is lightened, the frenzy made tranquil.
The tantalizing fruits beyond my reach less dearly do I hunger for,
And time is won (though never enough)
To do more than was expected,
To pursue my ends where-ever they may lead.

The terror and the longing muted to a murmur,
Sleep of the spirit before the waking tumult.
A dream of unfettered hours and pleasures swiftly won,
Of fruitful undertakings too often barred by time's miserly hand.

It's not so hard to accept the hand
That fate has kindly dealt me.
I can but hope the player is wise.
The time is now to stand upon the mountain of the present
To briefly marvel at the slopes behind
Then turn my gaze towards the valleys beyond
To find the path on which to tread
Through the mysterious terrain beyond.
I know not where the path leads,
But I know where I stand:
My home, my haven, my heaven.

George Chadderdon © 1992