Lord of anxiety and small troubles,
Lord of desolate mornings,
I have insulted the wind and sun;
forgive me.
Lord of defensive motionlessness,
I have slighted the moon;
forgive me.
For a mat on which to kneel, I repeat
the words of Bernard of Clairvaux:
“More deserving of blows than kisses,
I fear nothing because I love.”
The post Prayer: A Poem appeared first on VoegelinView.
Originally appeared on VoegelinView Read More
