Into spacious lands, unfurling,
I am the opposite of Your intent;
saying much, doing little.
Glib, even now.
Not a step I take, waxes towards greatness.
But I love You, I pray when I catch myself snoozing.
Please accept me as Yours,
Your own child.
I’ll fail as Your employee,
backsliding as I do with contagious ease.
I am ashamed, but inappropriately.
Fearful, unabated with anxiousness over You,
but my trustworthiness lacks.
I sold low, set taut sails going when
only on Your account do I remark
or demonstrate
the thickness in me, the dead weight.
Polish the surface,
set the lens.
Rivulet light,
dew on valley greens.
Please let me not go,
I hunger with voracity,
sing songs of loneliness, indirectly, over Your memory.
Aye, Rabbenu shel Olam,
Du.