The Point Of Being

Days spent listening to the song of need,
a grandson whose young mind wants to know,
my son with his frustrations in need of an ear,
spouse who vents words by stress,
they are all the songs of life I feel and accept
on my what to rise each morning
as the walk through the hours
means dwelling with hands
that must help and healing,
guide, love and support.

Moving from that precipice of stress
unto the lair of labor
spent full time on my weekends,
to cope with every client need,
to help built their service dreams
while coping with all the things that never work.

It is all the memories and the sounds
that sit in my head when I rise each morning,
the countless realities that I wear as life,
yet they are the motivations an passions,
which move through my heart,
reach inside and shake off any lethargy
as I feel each flicker of their calls
each demand and duty that lingers
in their point of being on my heart.

This is the pulse that moves and inflames,
gives me the desire to rise and live
where sunset comes with joy
while the Lord holds my hope as more
when I can reflect on the hours of light,
truly feeling I did what was right
in all the paths I had to follow.