Sunday, March 9, 2014

Poetic Prayer, Day 5

Father, my feeble and frail attempts
to drag myself deeper, and draw myself into
devotion, to vanquish my sin and win victory over
my flesh: how far have I come? A foot to a mile
would be progress more potent. So I pour out my strength.
Fill me with fire not fraught and impure
and allow it to light all my limpid attempts,
and bless it to burn down my bitter pride.



An attempt at alliterative verse. Too bad I don't know a synonym for verse that starts with "a."
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