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Hasten the End


Hasty is my soul.
I confess, impatient my whole being.
This stubborn craving is ever cleaving.
This desire, never leaving.
Eternal cry be satisfied or be silent.

I survive this panting,
Endure this earthly breathing,
I pause and plead for perception.
As I exist in the midst of Him, who never leaves or forsakes,
I settle once more for the unseen and my heart aches.

Soul, admit to this grief.
Groan, responds to this vexing veil.
Spirit, perceive what present observations are failing.

Will He return in tangible beauty suddenly?
Attending to my want with severe appearing?
What has held this violent force captive that it hides?
Contained this affection?
May it arrive.
Who am I that I darken His beauty, halt His astounding?
How I long to weep and wail at nail pierced hands.
To burn all lofty idols that have failed to describe Him.
To chastise those who deny Him.
To burn and chastise myself.
Hasten the End of me.
Hasten the End.

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