fiction
Edward w Pritchard
repost
Lamentations are a cry of grief to heal our suffering and allow us to move on to the next stage of our enterprises.
Here is what I wrote before:
lamentation number 8
Lord, with an envious heart I look on the success of others.
Yet I know that all suffer the same end,
and most suffer in silence day to day.
For years I have relied on fate
which due to my proclivities is indifferent.
Lift my eyes to the Mountains
and guide my actions through instruction
revealed nightly in my troubling dreams.
I harm no one,
but accomplish little.
A waste of precious days.
Flash your light into
my weary eyes.
Reach to my outstretched hand.
Also reprinted:
lamentation number 6
fiction
edward w pritchard
I am cast in a pit but I wait patiently for the return of your favor Lord. Hear my quiet prayer and take note of my suffering. Night is long and darkness interminable, raise your hand Lord and guide me into the light of your grace. Humbly I endure the punishment for my sins. Send winds and light rain to cleanse my soul and heal my spirit. Birds sing and gardens grow when the Lord is pleased. Drinking water is sweet and food flavorful when the Lord smiles upon his prodigal sons.
this mournful traveler/ lamentation 7
fiction
edward w pritchard
This mournful traveler, myself, having arrived at this place; without recognition, friendship or admiration, did I come here of my own initiative. Or, was my path pre-determined. Was I placed here and now, fighting to stay this dejected reputation, as preparation for future battles. Or, was my path random, of no meaning or significance. And, did I arrive here through lack of resolve, insignificance of character, and stint of judgment.
Stumble on, refuse to fall, dream despite reality and probability and hope for victory over the next hill. The script if written is not in my hands and my eyes cannot see beyond this abyss.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I am cast in a pit but I wait patiently for the return of your favor Lord. Hear my quiet prayer and take note of my suffering. Night is long and darkness interminable, raise your hand Lord and guide me into the light of your grace. Humbly I endure the punishment for my sins. Send winds and light rain to cleanse my soul and heal my spirit. Birds sing and gardens grow when the Lord is pleased. Drinking water is sweet and food flavorful when the Lord smiles upon his prodigal sons.
this mournful traveler/ lamentation 7
fiction
edward w pritchard
This mournful traveler, myself, having arrived at this place; without recognition, friendship or admiration, did I come here of my own initiative. Or, was my path pre-determined. Was I placed here and now, fighting to stay this dejected reputation, as preparation for future battles. Or, was my path random, of no meaning or significance. And, did I arrive here through lack of resolve, insignificance of character, and stint of judgment.
Stumble on, refuse to fall, dream despite reality and probability and hope for victory over the next hill. The script if written is not in my hands and my eyes cannot see beyond this abyss.
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