O Lord make haste to help me
I prostrate myself at your feet
My prayers are liken to the tears
that I shed at my mother's funeral
Send me your thoughts
So I can write in words your ponderings
I am like a barren desert
waiting for the manna of your words
I cry my tears,
puddles could fill a lake
I know you can hear me
for you are always within my reach
I beseech you to imbue my spirit
with the tastings of your thought
and I can write with exquisiteness
the quickening of your feeling within my belly.
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