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35 (VII) - Lament, To be Loved by the World and God

VII
I don’t think I ever want to leave,
Even if I wrongly seek.
Maybe I delude myself,
Thinking you’re here with me.
Father, you know, I must confess,
I’m like a child with their plush.
To your grace, in the dark I cling.
Maybe I’m just imagining.

Image in. Imagining.
Let us make them in our image.
I must be a great case for censorship.
What use is a wasted gift?
I’ve received a good start in life,
I’ve received your Scriptures,
Yet all I’ve done is give myself to strife
And thrown away the pearls.

Now here I am blackmailing God with my lament.
Or should I rather confess that I’m scared, my Lord?
The more I try to come close to you, the more I fear.
In my prayers, there flows tears, but still I fear.
The devil’s a creature who comes as an angel.
Should I trust every thing whispered to my ear?
A suggestion seems good at first,
But on further examination the error’s revealed.