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A Work In Progress

A lonely soul, I haunt this peopled earth; and ever solitary, I beside remain untreasured and ne'er knowing mirth. Woe am I! For wherefore do I confide in Thee, O Lord? For, alone and unloved, I perish day and night, year after year: for You have not willed my dearly beloved; but, sick of my requests, turned a deaf ear. Be that as it may, Poesy's a comfort, a just redeemer and a savior: whose craft provides spiritual life-support; and sustains my poor heart like no lover. O Lord, though I have found a new mistress; have grace on me as a work in progress!?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Book: Shattered Sighs