My thoughts, half-baked like desert clay,
ascend the arid stretch of reality,
reaching for truth, reaching for peace.
I fall again.
My prayers, gnarled secrets like oak roots,
dig deep into the murky mud of my soul,
reaching for purity, reaching for nourishment.
I fall again.
My eyes, sharp and cold like iron,
pierce the horizon of the world,
reaching for clarity, reaching for meaning.
I fall again.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Teach me peace, nourish with truth
give meaning and purity,
and pick me up again.
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