Thine eyes have not been upon you.
My thoughts wander,
my soul searches
for distractions it always seems to find.

I think of you but only to wonder,
“is what I’m doing displeasing you?”
I’m not aiming to please, but fearful of not.

My thoughts – so often
unwholesome, dishonest,
untrue or unrighteous.
They wander to and fro,
like stalks in the wind.

Like mice fleeting from one pleasure to the next
trying to fill an unquenchable thirst
they keep roaming, keep nibbling,
never sated, but stuffed to the brim,
always looking for more, never content.