Dying the Little Deaths

December 1, 2009
"Now I lay me down to sleep..."
Mechanically. It's just something my body needs, against my will.

"I pray the Lord my soul to keep..."
Do I? Really? I mean, even though I'm unconscious, I'd still like to call it mine.

"If I should die before I wake..."
How depressing to think about. I'd rather shut my eyes expecting to re-open them in the morning.

"I pray the Lord my soul to take..."
So if I'm asleep, He keeps it; if I'm dead, He takes it. What if I don't want Him to? What about when I'm awake?

Oh the questions I could pose
Of the prayer instinctively spoken
The ignorance of the meaning
Of a faith that's long since broken

The doubts and the lies
The bread and the wine
What truth lies beneath
The hesitant fauth that I call mine





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