A Talk To The Night

I cling to the greeny walls of the pit where I fall I cannot grasp them by my hand they live in mind where no moss, no rusts are found. Oh, the sting to decide! It knocks me down to the pit so dark and deep! No other way except that I must swim to get over the searing pain. On earth there's not easy task for even if I sow a healthy seed, the breaking of the flesh I cannot escape. I ask Him to withhold this burning, this dying for a little while, for a little while, or else, I'd be consumed Ah, Christ, do you smile?