To the Ancient of Days

I see my impotence,
My selfishishness,
My sin and paralysis.
It may be
The best song I ever sing
Is an elegy,
My best witness
An epitaph.
Let all these gentle moments
You’ve poured out upon me

Let them live.

Whatever years stretch before me,
Though crippled to action
As I have always been,
Harvest some morsel of affection
You may enjoy every now and again,
Let those morsels survive.

Because I am nothing,
But I’ve been marked by
All in All.

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