God ever ancient and ever new,
Make me new again,
Before I get old once.
You who read me and know my story,
Whose life is life itself and the light of glory,
Feed me the pith of the marrow of the bone in the meat of the flesh.
Spare me the dust of the rind of the rotten and scrawny fruit.
Make me stride upon a hard road.
It is no kindness to wander softly through sand-blown gardens.
You who give the word that I cannot make,
Make me know the words I know how to spell.
You who bid me to breathe your love into me,
Deliver me from these gasps
Of suffocated poetry
Inflate this sagging sac
(If only it would burst!)
Give form to this triumph of deformity
And conform it to you
To reform me
Until I know nothing better
Than to relive your life
So to live this life
Once and for all
In me.
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