Turning To The Sun

  from Walled Gardens
 
  My heart is but a mirror in the fog
  of my own hypocrisy; my very soul
  is stained by the rust of doubt and unbelief,
  and the fog won’t lift and the rust won’t go away.
   
  God knows I’ve tried to make this mirror shine
  but all I have is spit and vinegar,
  a sprayer of hate and a rag of hostility,
  and the fog won’t lift and the rust won’t go away.

  “Faith,” I’m told, “will make your mirror shine:
  faith and the unstained virtue of your creed.”
  And so I turn my mirror to the sun
  and through the darkness I begin to pray:
  “Create in me a clean heart, O God,
  renew my spirit, help my unbelief
 
  ...that the fog would lift and the rust would go away.”