Alone

Can it be that I wish this breath I breathe
To be the final one for me to have?
And disappointed that my soul did not leave
My melancholy swells without any salve

Though my Lord has risen from the grave
It seems my soul still seeks to lie with the dead
Rejecting hope to drink the despair it craves
Such perversity fills my mind with dread

But is this dread out of love or loyalty?
I suspect it comes more from resigned fear
My vision is too narcissistic for royalty
Too narrow for even the most foolish seer

My Lord, I no longer know what to give or ask
It seems I even fail my priestly task
This nothingness is all I alone can render
Grant me the grace, at least, to surrender


God bless,
>P<
Joshua Fahey