poem (of sorts) by me: holy week

O Lord, now comes the dark day
with steady step and firm, and
resolutely you go forth
to meet it; though inwardly
you may tremble, your feet do
not stray from the path laid
out for you from the world's dawn
and before.

May I with equal strength and
selfless love tread the way set
before me, becoming more
like you, until at last I
see your face and take my rest.

[why are the stanzas seven syllables each? because i thought they were eight.

...maybe i should go have breakfast and finish waking up.]
Indexing: ,