It is lonely. It is empty. A hole that I sit in day after day, so dark.
Why should I feel this way, when I have a passion that still burns deep? How is it that I have let the day creep in leaving little of my Lord behind?
I come to my Lord, in sorrow, and in repentance. I have put my love aside and put on the lusts of each day. His cross is but a piece of wood, meaning little but a symbol of a fulfilment lost. The Water of Life is a stream run dry and the rains have not yet come.
I look to the clouds and cry, but my voice is lost in the dry rattle of the wilderness.
The zephyr begins on my face, and as I, with tears, weep, first silently, then racking with grief as I lament. I am guilty of my Lords death, for I have sinned; not just once, but again and again.
My, Lord, have mercy on me! Come close again, and make me whole!
The fruit has withered on the vine, there in no sweetness in me.
I want to love You; I need to love You, I long to be in love with You. Take me once again into your arms, anoint me with your oil, and bring me to the place of your table.
Your peace is like a rainbow the crosses the sky, a bridge between God and man. Your peace is a dew in the morning that refreshes the weariest soul. Your peace becomes a dove that rests the wildest heart. Your peace is the still waters by which you bring me to lie. Your peace is the shepherd’s voice to the lone sheep on the hillside.
Oh Lord, great is your faithfulness. Your Love exceeds the deepest well. How can I understand such Grace? Lead me to the bosom of your Life and there may I dwell the days of my life.