Those dusky deeds, they winnow,
For the night, it seeks deliverance,
Each battle cry, a headstone of pride,
Curse the heart that wakens a covetous eye,
With the weevil munching on languishing vine,
Eroding the rind of forgiveness,
'Tis time to set light to the remnants,
O Lord, I proclaim my repentance,
Will You not waken my soul with remembrance?
Alas, my spirit, it aches for Your transcendence.

© JLaine