the olding

I beckon to the past where thou be
Rest in peace and complacency
Do not speeaketh thy resounding chorus
That it may discover one so porous
I pray I may beseech thy favor
That I may forge through the past unwavered
Relinquish my garb now worn and battered
To cover the panes that have been shattered
Seeking salvation in the mirth reborn
Wishing thee nigh hurt nor scorn
Patience pray my soul uncover
Finding within love for another
May merriment infest my nights
While silent peace holdeth my sight
Releasing cruel resentments to the sky
That joy may be present to you and I