I sit alone
In stillness watch
And ever am unseen

No one notices
Or cares,
Away they always lean

I am like
The Ringbearer
I always am alone

And if someone
Should notice me
Throw me just a bone

They are seen
So favorably
In my eyes for so long

My judgment so
Becomes a blur
They do little wrong

I feel like I'm
An empty shimmer
Like heat waves in the sun

I want to be
Solidified
But I'm noticed not by one

The Lord sees me, and so satisfies my soul, but also I have not yet fully shed my mortal flesh; thus it continues to crave.

They either talk through me, or about me. And on the rare occasion that they actually talk to me, the words are hard and spiteful, or else false emptiness that echoes through the silence that I have ceased to fill. No, failed.

Father, I fear that the axe, which is laid at the very roots of my tree, shall be swung and I shall burn. Lord, how can I bear fruit unto Thee if no one sees me?

I count on one hand: one, two, three, four, five, then struggle on to six, then barely seven and a half have seen me. No more than that, and even these are questionable.

But what now?
Do I allow myself some pity? Or do I tell myself to move on because again I feel the hands of the Divine One on my shoulders and a warmth spreads through me as I hear the Voice whisper,
“I've got a reason and a plan. Just keep going.”

So I choose the latter
And I hope for ever after
The the Holy Grace won't
Leave me.