Is It Time?
Is it time, my Lord? For I grow weary.
Life here has become all too complicated.
Seeds scattered, make their own way.
The depression of failures is taking its toll.
Searching for peace, I make this request,
When it’s time, my Lord,
Bring me home as promised.
Help me grasp the bottom rung.
For I believed as a child without depth,
And deserve no better.
To search, to study; I left that to others.
As the apostle preached salvation in your name,
I was baptized.
That word was all I needed,
For are we not always your children?
Bring me home as promised,
Kenneth D. Massara
It is human nature as you grow older to dwell more upon the next venture and the promise that has been made.
That thought was the catalyst for the poem.