It’s up to me
not to live illogically–

and instead,
to take up
such a good way
that plugs on
well to satisfy–
not disappoint–

I cannot
merely sit
and wait
for some illusive Power
to set me straight
and bring me back in joint,
to make me rise up
to the hour–

But, nonetheless,
I can still (a little) pray,
with hopes on hold,
the tortured waiting
tossed away,
and set my feet in step
back toward my destination point,
to move today,

But perhaps will come, another day,
a middle way,
where, to my purpose
I will my efforts lay,
and tie my hair out of the way,
to leave space
for the great Universe
my scared,
but earnest
heart and head
and body
to anoint,
and help me
all confining
walls and ceilings
through to burst.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Prayer. Bookmark the permalink.

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