Tears are drenching wrinkles

On fatigued, weary face

Is this wallowing in self-pity

Or pangs of conscience phase?

Words muted, barely audible

Beseeching the Holy One & Immutable

Is the entreaty betoken by lips humble

Or engrossed in self & thus formidable?

Due intent is the timeless demand

Shallow-headed - unsated desire

Bag of dirty tricks toss into fierce fire

Trumping day and night the foe dire.

While the curing gift of grace is abated

The fruit-bearing aim remains forfeited

Setting up the path to self-destruction

Vile conscience and fatal infraction.

Crucified Love binds the soul to the glorious Tree

From allures of this world vital force must flee

Under the Tree of the dolorous Passion

The light that washes, the flames that impassion

The King enthroned tears off the pierced Hand

The Light that pleads, is ardently reaching ye

Clutch at the Arm of Mercy

For His passion

Is evermore thirsty

Bleeding Hand

Unsparingly wounded

Tormented Hand

That will be the final

Judgment signal

And command.