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I turned my face from God, but I won't turn from you |
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I turned it not in shame, but to shield his light from view |
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My body, it will die, but what I do today will resonate |
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Until the action, long since passed |
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Bears no resemblance to what it wrought before |
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You turned your face as well and I feared I was to blame |
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Because your face now turned |
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No longer burned with virtue's flame |
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And when your face was turned |
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It ceased to be pleasingly cherubic |
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I could detect the spark (or lack thereof) or chronic tepidness |
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I turned my face from God, but I won't turn from you |
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I turned it not in shame, but to shield his light from view |
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My body it will die but what I do today will resonate |
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Until the action, long since passed |
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Bears no resemblance to what it wrought before |
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I'd like to think that I |
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Can tough-mindedly avoid these snares |
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But this conceit will last |
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Only until your rod and staff are gone |
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And now that I have wept tears of despair |
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Please let me cling to you |
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And now that I have died to myself |
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Please let me see your face |
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And since my longing took a desperate turn |
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I feel you near to me |
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And now that my voice cracks with regret |
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I draw you into me |
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I may not have a lot |
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But what you have, you have surely got |
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And when it's gone from me? |
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Part of it will stay with you endlessly |
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What did it do in me? |
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It wrapped your heart in veiny filigree |
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What if I turn around? |
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Then truthfully, you were never found |
