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.