Limited Vision

That's enough for now, then,
Stop pushing your perennial pen.
Climb those blasted stairs, my friend,
Sleep’s the eternal cure for men.

Before you close your eyes for everlasting rest,
Ask your master for peace and freedom, lest
When he comes to take you home,
He finds you guilt-ridden, lying prone.

But what, I ask, what if I don’t finish
The work you want me to accomplish?
What’s the joy in that, to go up there
With so little to show, portfolio bare?

“Who are you to say, you haven’t done what I asked?
How can you know the full compass of your life’s meaning?
Do you insist that every accomplishment draw its own picture
In your mind? Do you discredit all the invisible deeds
That don’t feed your ego and lift your self-esteem?”

I won’t try to answer you, Mr. G.
Except to say that I agree.
Take me home, early or late.
By your grace, I’ll watch and wait.

Let me pray, though, one brief hope,
That you reveal, when you’re with me,
What my life meant, beyond its scope.
What did I accomplish, when I couldn’t see?