Nowhere Apart from Your Tender Care

Nowhere can I go that you are not there;
Though I prepare to sail the high seas,
Or walk thru the forest of thick tall trees;
Though I talk without any thought of you,
Or bask in the task at hand, slave to work;
Though I drink from mountain streams,
Or dream in the lush, green vales below. . .

Wherever I am, you are there and nothing
Can tear me apart from your tender care

Nowhere can I go that you are not there;
Though I enter the classroom of gloom,
Where atheists boom against your being;
Though I kneel in the churchyard along
With the bard regaling me with his tales;
Though I down a pint of ale in some pub,
Or attend the most superficial fancy club. . .

Wherever I am, you are there and nothing
Can tear me apart from your tender care

Nowhere can I go that you are not there;
Though I sweat in the night from fright,
Or walk in fear through the dreary day;
Though I reach for the moon and stars,
Or venture far beyond sight of humanity;
Though I go down to keep of ocean deep,
Or crawl along fine sand of coastal land. . .

Wherever I am, you are there and nothing
Can tear me apart from your tender care
Nothing . . . apart from your tender care!

Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?  Psalm 139.7

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Note: Poem inspired by the 139th Psalm