I can feel the darkness round me permeate my thought and will;
As a sinister imposter advocating all that's ill.
Once again my plea for mercy goes unheeded as before;
Once again the silence deafens -- solitude and nothing more.
So try again, I raise my thoughts in supplication hoping still
for succor I was taught would be for me available at will.
I know not how to make my prayers in greater earnestness or truth;
The pain is real, the future dire; and gone are confidence and youth.
And what purpose could be served by unrelenting dark malaise?
How can this pretend to aid in offering up the gift of praise?
What can I in crushed demeanor do to foster life or good?
How can I with darkened spirit stand where saints before have stood?
Am I punished for transgressions dire but unbeknownst to me?
Must I live my life unknowing how I might return to Thee?
Speak to me and give me solace, reassure me one more time.
Help me with my weakened faith; impart me with your grace divine.
I can feel the darkness round me permeate my thought and will.
Give me courage, strength and vision; lift me up, embrace me still!