Oh Lord, purify me, make me a chalice in which you dwell, offer your sacrifice in me and spread your love through me. Let me shine like gold, adorn me with the jewels of virtue that I may always be open to you. Fill me. Overflow me. Let me be like that most perfect vessel, the Singular Vessel of Devotion, She to whom I cry for protection against the Evil One. I ask this for your glory, for the vessel is nothing without the sustenance inside, the cup nothing unless it is filled. Oh Lord, purify me.

Give me a word, Abba

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Where was I?

What is a pencil for?
Shall we write wrongs for all the world to see?
Shall we draw conclusions from smudges?
Are we led on by pointless arguments?

Small words for a small world
it, like, was, no, lol, what? she was like, he
This night of thought might have held grudges
Against convictions, against testaments.

Are we deafened by or
Are we blinded by the hypocrisy?
Our own? Theirs? Both? All of the above?
We hear the cock crow in our potter's field.

What is a pencil for?
Write softly spill no more red ink on me
We are dulled, soft, 4B, can't take love
Why then is love the only needful thing?

I can see you see me
But our eyes don't meet, unspoken decree
Our words freeze and freeze our lives. What lives?
Alone, alone, together but alone!

If we are still alone
Why not remove the occasion of pain?
Why stay with her until he arrives?
So leave, your cries an unheard dial tone.

What is a pencil for?
To find yourself? To lose yourself? Insane!
Snapping wood and broken lead destroyed
First ink, now lead, a mess, so clean your hands.


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