Whither Goest Thou?

Perhaps in time it will all go away
Perhaps this ink’s the last for this day-age.
If so then mayhap I must ask what next?
And leave the lingering dark for joyous tests.
I gaze upon that world again afraid
That once more I’ll be forced again to hide,
But then I wait and hear his tender voice,
Telling me His Love may bless my choice.
So once more I look upon the wasteland
And ask whereunto I must make my stand.
Must I remain at the head where He is
And bear the fire of sole earthly toils?
Or must I become the world’s new grandchild
And embrace joy tight, fake, meek and mild?