Young Writers Society

To my Lord,

Supposed Lord,

Of whom I've been told of,

Taught of, and preached of, repeatedly,

Who is Almighty, all-knowing, all-present,

Pure, good, merciful, and above all else, Love.

-

A prayer I offer, no, perhaps it is something else:

A rambling of sorts, a plea, a complaint so sincere,

An incomprehensible utterance by a sinner, so worthless,

But worth more for You have created me. There!

Already I have found the first paradox, the great conflict

Of sin and worth, of the weight of my soul, weightless,

Heavier with sin, lighter without, pleading for Your mercy.

Yet, I had no say, none of us did, but I shall keep in mind,

This prayer (yes, I have decided, this is a prayer),

Is a prayer from the first person, and not a prayer of advocacy

Of which I so often call upon, without permission, fellow mankind

To validate my claims silently; my Lord, what can I hide

From Your eyes perfect, too splendid for me.

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How depraved You have made me.

I despise Thee. I despise You, Almighty,

Your concept, idea, Your laws, Your words are bitter poison

To the inner-most depth of my soul, I cringe at Your statutes,

Your entreaties humble and yoke ever-light, I despise,

But can't reject, but must reject to be human filled with err,

For in my err I feel the exhilaration of freedom endless; yet,

You condemn all that I am; no, such condemnation was no act,

Your existence alone condemns mine.

-

Look my Lord, and can You not see,

The depravity of my heart? Depraved, for

Your light makes all things darker, sinners made manifest,

By your justice perfect, but how could I stand in defense

Against your goodness? For you leave me speechless,

Dumbfounded and angry, and so I lead on in great pretension,

And greater loss, for my way is unseen -- You have blinded.

Your light has made my way even more lost.

-

Yet, what have I to boast of? Do you not see, O Lord,

This ashamed sinner, shameless, so brazen and

Proud? Yet for what reason, does he lift his voice to You?

What right? If I were Lord, such blasphemy would be struck,

Merciless, but that would transgress against Your defining Grace,

Your perfection unshakeable, and so I come across the second paradox,

That tempts my mind to wander even further.

Devoid of Your guiding hand, I have let go, lost in questions,

I have no answers for.

-

My Lord, do You not hear my noisy tantrum?

The hypocrisies which echo with each line I write,

My prayer is no prayer, but a sin, a transgression,

One more, to write down within Your holy book,

Of fiery condemnation and wrath,

Oh how I fear Your damning hell, ambiguous,

Your Being unkown. All I desire is

A return, but I have made the journey and crossed

Over, now knowing, more unknowing of everything.

How You have become a blur.

-

What truth remains for so wretched a soul?

A soul with conditional certainty, and as if certainty itself

Wasn't conditional. Yet, I become lost in words, until that which

Cannot be expressed remain, a feeling, a desire, which

Words shouldn't express. For the moment language makes

Attempt to make sense the senseless, its wonder is lost,

And with its loss, all purpose to ponder its worth.

-

My God, my God, have You no mercy?

Or have I lost all sense? All I am is no more,

I am without light and measurement to measure my soul,

Nonexistent worth, all worth fabricated, and yet You watch

My squirming and my inexplicable defiance. I wish to yield,

But what have I to yield?

Before You I am nothing.

-

Lord if I had a prayer, I follow suit in the words

Of those before me, Lord I believe;

Help my unbelief.

And still, won't silence befall me once more?

And in the agony of life obfuscated, won't

I wander once more?

He who has made separate my guilt and I,

Make true the sins I had known,

Make true Your judgment,

Make true all that You are,

And make known to me the truth You have willed.

If You are, surely You will,

I pray there is truth,

I pray you give me the eyes to see such truth,

For I am depraved, lost of all conditions, all context

Good and Bad has escaped me,

Save this wretched sinner,

For I feel I know sin all the more,

And You all the less.

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Amen