When you become too lonely and sad,
That is when you disappear
Without a trace:
Ambrose Bierce became
A wandering ghost in Mexico;
Hart Crane, probably in tears,
Jumped into the ocean;
Sylvia Plath kissed her children
And then was no more.
So every day I’m singing one more hymn
And saying one more prayer,
I’m learning to weather storms.
I love Jesus,
But I don’t want to see him too soon.