Call of the Weary

[tcs_tonsils_ 2829]

Call of the Weary

9th of Jula ag Piov, 428 E.S.

[!] A portrait of an adult Borris Iver Kortrevich 

 

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O’ Lord, where are you?

I cry out for healing, yet I hear no reply.

I feel alone, lost in my own damned thoughts.

Till I am swirling in my own self pity and despair.

 

O’ Lord, where are you?

I call out for courage, yet you are silent.

My every movement a blazing pain upon my flesh,

And every subtle breath, agony that exudes forth from my lungs.

 

Where are you, O’ Lord?

I plead for mercy, yet you remain out of reach.

When the darkness seems to have taken me completely.

Till there is simply nothing left of my person to lend to others.

 

Where are you, O’ Lord?

When my trials are so vast, do you hear when I weap?

Do you hear when I mourn? Or when I am consumed by anger?

Where, O’ Lord, are you? Are you even listening? Are you even there?