Cezanne

Embittered notions
within and around;
Bolt in all directions –
Unmindful, not sound.

Forgetting the place
Where all things turned,
Returning to Jesus
Loving eyes yearned.

I never seem,
At least I ponder,
To live on a line
From which I shan’t wander.

For sine and cosine
Curves repeat their course.
And I endlessly follow,
Revisiting remorse.

Yet forget still I may
The place of rebirth.
Return, I, to Jesus,
God’s hand, such mirth.

rick