christian poem

that strange companion came on shuffling feet
grieve not for the invisible
those black eyes i once so praised
there's one that i once loved so much
when the wind works against us in the dark
made up of loveliness alone
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
there by the window in the old house
my mother taught me that every night
i burn no incense