In vain we strive,
our way to find.
Through clouded mind,
our place in time.
Empty, hollow,
short of breath.
Lost, alone,
a walking death.
We’re on all fours,
our pity soars.
Self-absorbed,
a slamming door.
So we cry foul,
but silence rings.
A wrenched soul,
emptiness brings.
Lost, alone,
nowhere to run.
Sick at heart,
darkened sun.
The battle lost,
when waged alone.
For we are but,
a tiny stone.
But, on the Rock,
we’re lifted up.
Recieve His breath,
taste of His cup.
The moral grasped,
the lessoned honed.
Without His strength,
we strive alone!
Mike's Musings 
Definitely want His strength. Thank you, Mike.
Thank you. I’m really enjoying this opportunity to write again.
With him – everything. Without him – nothing.
Good poem.
Thanks, Glen.