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41 - Lament of a Midnight Rosary (VI)

Lonely, lonely, lonely,
It was only me praying thy rosary.
Perhaps the saints were in the pews.
Pray Jesus, with your Mother Mary,
I pray you two were with me.
But the doors clicked, the chapel creaked,
And shivers, consolations ran down my spine,
Like a river of emerald delights.
What manner of greeting was this?
Heeding the warnings of past Vicars,
I thought Satan had entered the church.
That the Devil had come to disturb.
If not that, but real person, how much worse!
Someone came, saw, the reward for secret work, gone!
Still, I stared at the box in which you were locked,
I dared not quit my prayer or turn my head back,
Lest I see him there and turn into a pillar of salt.
I recited the Joyful Mysteries.
In between recitations of Hail Mary’s,
I thought to myself, ‘Be not afraid.’ On repeat.
Be not afraid. Be not afraid. Be not afraid.
Thanks to that, I finished those five decades,
But when I looked back I found no one,
Only an unlocked piano case.

And why, Jesus, you would gift me not what I asked,
But you’d break the lock on the piano for mass.
What? Am I supposed to learn how to play?
What joy was I supposed to feel,
Getting told to do something I planned on doing anyways?
But I’d be lying if I said I heard-heard your voice.
It could have been a coincidence
Where someone forgot to lock the case.
Still, playing gave me a small break from the lament.
I can only say you gifted the circumstance.