I really cannot talk to you,
I have nothing much to say;
You walk in the illusion of self control,
Not nearly how I see the Way.
Though I surely am a terrible sinner,
I remember I am a child of God,
A brother or sister of Christ in the Spirit
And a follower of the cross that He trod.
Solitude in the face of the world’s order
Leaves me humble, repentant and poor,
Unable the battle for too long to envision
Or the game to conduct or keep score.
So I commit to this moment as only a refuge
Till the next time I hear some sweet grace
That enables me to stand alone before God
And my cross or my trials to face.