Dappled light with the razor’s edge of cutting shadows,
Dawn has gone now; morning yet wanes.
Place within my skull a new thought; a new appreciation of your work,
Your hand in my life and my time.
Rip away the fog and dismay that are my thoughts,
My actions and plans are a cancer: a leprosy which brings corruption and an abiding stench I no longer wish to smell.
I give you the knife and like a master surgeon, you cut the dead and corrupted flesh away. My life has been sucked from me by these dead and withered limbs,
Procrastination and pride, arrogance and vanity.
I will strive no longer with these shadows and specters of the darkness.
My life and my time are in you – there is no room for shadows of yesterday
or fears for tomorrow:
It is done.
Oh gentle hand, skilled physician, there is no pain when that which has died is removed,
Only the stench lingers for a moment.
Open now the windows and let the breeze of the waning spring be the herald
of the fruitful summer you call into my life.
The blossoms are no longer tender on the vine, but flower now, for you have formed the time and the season, the rhyme that is my life, the song to the maker supreme,
Let it ring oh Lord, let it ring!
© 6.1.91 Kenwood, California