by Gideon Burton
Let me forego, forget, forgive, forsake
what I so foolishly insist to keep,
to lose with keeping, angry though I weep,
confused, convinced I only profit if I take.
Correct me, Lord, and let the heavens shake
and rain, let all be swallowed in the deep
abyss of night or fire or thickest sleep,
so long as this one soul Thou might remake.
Let there be tempests singed with cindered flame;
let ocean floods consume me with their waves;
let all that stands or stays descend or cave
as I attempt to speak that solemn name
which atoms sing and molten time still craves,
the name that stills, rebuilds, transforms and saves.
Photo: flickr - Raymond Larose