Consecrated Offering

The hundred thousand errors of my past

Like village hounds snapping at my feet

Follow me, I still cannot get free

Of habits old and untoward demands

Nor find within the sole conquering will.

I lost myself in work to no avail

As thoughts from other worlds assail my mind

And like a rudderless ship in heaving seas

Am tossed about and sink to rise again

Having had full complement of pain

And most unworthy suffered love's return

But friendship's loss, inevitable loss,

While I continue in my daily rounds

Hoping to outrun, at least survive

Myself and on some future day to find

That by a consecrated offering

To the truth I am within, no longer blind.