It came to pass:
A simple phrase
So full of hope.
The seasons change.
What now is wrong
Will be made right.
Like flow’rs and grass
Are fearful days
And daunting slopes.
Think it not strange
When night seems long.
Soon comes the light.
Photo by Dawid Zawiła on Unsplash
Lord, save me from the fatal flaw
Of needing to be right,
Of loving not my brother but the fight.
God, humble me with holy awe.
Let truth be my delight.
Let me persuade with meekness, not with might.
Photo by Jilbert Ebrahimi on Unsplash
We call our urges animal,
And thus we may explain them all away.
What once was seen as black and white
Is now seen certainly as simply grey.
Could such desires be criminal
If we too far beyond the limits stray?
Or might it be that wrong and right
Run deeper than what our emotions say?