The world propagates pride
may my soul disintegrate in humility
The world detests patience
may my heart be fenced in with waiting
O glorious God baiting my fears
from hiding with the sweet caresses
of compassion that blesses
the solitude of prayer
by bearing my alone to the company of saints
And to my false proposition
a tender destruction
of glorious healing love
like the beating wings of doves
your soft voice echoes in
the benevolent flows of
an impregnated silence
Bearing a family of guidance
to lead my little disciple
to your glorious recital
May I seek that He
that is buried in Trinity
not me,
but thy holy image
I cannot envisage
what is yours
Because I am a boat
without oars
must I cross this moat
without being drowned in defiance
upon grace, sweet reliance
That I must divorce illusion’s art
and bind my heart
to your glorious start
I must constantly converse with need
upon thy humble bread and feed
thousands of my tender thought-lambs
And in your will, you render
my castles to ruins
and my burdens to glory
O sweet story
tell my false emotions
to be exhausted
in your magnificent face
not in the insignificant
avenues of my bastard senses
Lead my wonder through
this dark night and to
your joyful paradise
not subject to any earthly device
but conformed to love purified in fire
and undefiled in the utter
compassion that does not stutter
in its exact repeating of
I AM.
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