Psalm 40 (a penitential psalm)

I am alone, no, even myself I cannot trust, and ever-faithful death is dead to answer;
~~Lord, I am abandoned where carrion scavengers move on to search for better.

Man imposing his own will loses his balance and becomes ill,
~~but the tiny centipede without fault steps its way along its sum of summer nights.

Generations of vain desires are like snares in a field,
~~yet pitiful tares and weeds thrown to the fire send forth abundant seed.

The noon sun in the valley is hot and the cave in the mountain is cool at night,
~~but Lord, only You can feel the lukewarm heart, indifferent to its godly nature:
~~create in me the one green hope that grows, however slowly, on a sinner’s stony slope.

1 comment:

Alexander M Zoltai said...

No need to comment on the poetic style--as always, Superb...

The content: a surprise, a welcome surprise; it touched me, clung to me, uplifted me...