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Friday, November 19, 2010

sophia

Father, forgive these wretched sons
they know not what they do
they think themselves undone by You
the trodden down, the suff'ring ones
they think that We, the passing priest
have yet to seek and save the least

Father, forgive these wretched sons
their souls, while raised to Thee
are moored by strings they do not see
by how they will and what they've done
their knowledge keeps the truth from them
though finally saved, they act condemned

Father, forgive these wretched ten
their newborn steps are weak
while all have mastered baby-speak
the basics must be learned again
 their knowledge keeps the truth obscured
their speech cuts off the world's First Word

~ ~ ~
this foolishness is not hard-earned
 its teachings, hardly spurned
 yet wisdom gotten easily
is but a parody