Knowing

Pale paper cheek turned
parchment,
dry-wrinkled from tears.
My angry will
pitted ‘gainst Yours
I come here often
I come here often.
“Everything is possible for You”
yet this cup never passes
Tonight,
I am weary of knowing.
Forever incomplete in the quest for understanding.
So if You would,
please take the time
unclasp my fingers,
bend my knee.
Bend my will to the curve of Your own,
so that “Not my will, but Yours be done”
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