Poetry

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Shine, Lord, when the sickness or hopelessness strikes,
arise in my heart; arise spirit.
Reveal yourself when the will to persevere dies and it refuses to be rivived to full life again.
Support my body when oppressing winds pull truth from under me.
Stream my spirit with beautiful words when temptation's sword threatens to cut me too deep.
Grip me with thoughts of undisturbed places of rest and a narrow path littered with inspiration,
yet splatter some of it with the mess of persecution as it inspires me as well to remind me that the spiritual battle has long been concieved and raging.
The army of light and darkness.
Remind me somehow that you, the Holy Father, never stop using us, for you just need to play your instruments in order so to make your song perfect.

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