You are not simple, say I to me,
or blind you would have to be,
though I still hold the problem rests
but with my complexity.

Satan’s silent weapon,
his oft accepted prod
that to be happy I must be free;
on all suffering trod.

So, I seek to be unbound from toil,
time, life or love, prayer,
or anything at all likewise wound.

Even God’s law,
duty, gospel words, Rules or vows
so found, complex I remain
seeking life that runs from pain;
thoughts why I was made
I strive to restrain.

Though, upwards runs my race
to the duties I embrace,
God can set me free
even should I hold tense the pace,
choose He so, though I strive not to ask
doing all I can to avoid that task.

No time in time my heart to move
or breathe the sweetness of Thee,
life’s Peace in which to believe,
or likewise His She,
undiminished her hope and trust
that I will do what I see I must.

Coming to know this lady,
simplicity, is needed,
her voice is always best heeded,
shown when He had no where to lay His head,
as will I still if I can before I must, when I am dead.