Easter of Eighteen

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Forward a year, into the dark
Of the future and my journey
I look around with sleepless eyes
And constant sorrow on my soul

The demons dark have shackled me
To my Caucasus cliff they wing
My being laid bare, they ribbon my soul
In Promethean agony I writhe

What must I do to save myself?
On mountain vigil I shake and pray
I see the sun o’erthrow the dark
And wish my soul was saved as simply

My faults and faltering I must slay
My flesh of soul I must abate
To Christ my past and passions give
My entire universe I yield

I mark the moon itself ease down
And when the West I hide my face
The sun has burst o’er wintry ridge
And anoints my soul with His Love.

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