Epistle Xxix - Virgin Snow

(I) Father, Once more, do I tumble and my knees meet the barren earth, I beg you, my lord, to exalt me from self-indulgence’s fiery maw, an open flame that razed my self-restraint and holds my flock, hostage, inside a labyrinthine cathedral of covetousness (II) Father, What use does my sight serve if I am blinded by the wiles of ephemeral decay? If my bloodshot orbs persist as vessels for iniquity then I plead with you to plunge your fingers into the very wells of my eye sockets and refashion my rotting gaze to be spotless like virgin snow (III) Father, as you immerse my dim eyes in the dove’s gentle radiance, refashion me as a blossoming seedling with petals unfurling towards Eden’s paradisical embrace, as my roots burrow deep and caress every hellbound crevice of Earth