Paper Take in my sorrow and my shame You, the knower of my deepest thoughts, Take in my failings name by name And share the burden of these blots. Paper, marry pen and make A solace for my heart to speak That in its sighing you can take Away what’s worn and weak; Yet can you keep my secrets, friend? …
Crying, Crying Little One
Crying, crying little one, crying due to all the things “they’ve” done to you in this cold cruel world Quiet down, O little one, else the gentleness of the breeze or the quiet, singing leaves you simply will not hear Learn to listen, O young one, or that elusive melody in which resounds reality will never become dear O my …
Heavy
Heavy I heave the cross of Life Upon my failing back The burden — heavy, the frame — it hurts, Yet there’s sweetness in the pain. For would I not forsake My pleasure and my sin; And would I not deny my lusts by nailing them to the tree, There’d be no hope for me, No chance that I would …
Dumbness
I don’t always want to speak to the world—to society, crowds, the general public. Often the desire is to simply meet one person—you know, that special person—and steal away into the night. Or perhaps steal away and get lost in a city, a city where no one knows who you are, and no one cares to wonder what you are …
What Can Quench or Satisfy?
What can quench or satisfy This thirst of deepest groan But that Christ be magnified His radiance be known? And should a worldly pleasure Ever craftily entice I’ll seek Him as a treasure Thus run from ev’ry vice.
The Wisdom of Silence
The Wisdom of Silence It’s in a moment that a word can topple you But in dumbness we learn of profounder languages, whose wordless eloquence is felt like caring hands and living, seeing eyes that drink in the sorrow and the shame, but not to scrutinize or in loftiness defame— they see, and give the heartfelt sympathy and their …
Dreamer
Dreamer By Timothy Berezhnoy Dreamer, feel the dirt Beneath your feet And do not think the air Will caress your cares away Get up, get up And till the tares away; The world isn’t waiting As you stand there Contemplating. It’s filled with doers, Workers, callused hands, Dreamers putting dreams to play