Not Dark Yet

Lord… you have heard the words of the poet
behind every beauty there is some kind of pain
my burgeoning labour weighs heavily on me
with the unanswerable questions
like “why do you believe?”

I have no answers but a voice that sounds like yours
it’s a voice on the wind
it’s the summer i long for
it’s the hope in the picture i’m painting
where late summer sun will warm my skin again
please let me not be cold that long

Lord… you know the wrestle of my heart unseen
the knifeblade of decision that sharpens on integrity
where is my justice Lord, where is my hope?
I have rested in your strength these years
but i am weary, the skies darken over me
You are not weary Lord, uphold me

everlasting one, draw near to me and i will yield to you
make my confessions of longing and hold on to my breath
catching my tongue on tears, kneeling on fist, head to floor
oh in this moment not to be alone
not to be in silence, not out of arms

and here is my whole heart and vision falling under shadows
here is my will submitting
Where is my justice Lord, where is my hope?
what now for the people? what now for tomorrow?
what left is sacred, what is left?

Wash the mud and spit from my eyes, heal my sight
wash the mud and spit from our eyes, heal our sight
make uncertainties clear, truth to light from fear
the many, make simple, make few, make right… make You.

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