a prayer for the one I called my true love

To a boy, whom I have never met:

You'll walk unscathed through musket fire
No plowman's blade will cut thee down
No cutler's horn will mark thy face
and you will be my ain true love
and you will be my ain true love
And as you walk through death's dark veil
the cannon's thunder can't prevail
And those who hunt thee down will fail
and you will be my ain true love
and you will be my ain true love
Asleep inside the cannon's mouth
the captain cries "Here comes the rout"
They'll seek to find me north & south
I've gone to find my ain true love
The field is cut and bleeds to red
the cannonballs fly round my head
The infirmaryman may count me dead
when I've gone to find my ain true love
I've gone to find my ain true love...


I send this blessing to you, my love, my true, although I have never seen thy face.

I pray that someone will find me and relieve me of this insincere feeling, the one you get when you feel alone, and write poems and listen to lyrical songs; when you feel like you'll never find peace and solituide, when all you want is to say things you shouldn't say. I've held my tongue so many times these past few days, when all I want is to scream and shout until I cannot speak anymore. Perhaps that would be a good thing. Perhaps I need to be silenced, or allowed a moment in which perpetual silence is found, only to have it broken by the unharmonious voices around me, which tell me to make sense of the music around me, though it's all out of key.

I want to be forgiving, yet be forgiven. I want to wash away regrets, dust them away like shards of glass upon the floor.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. - Psalm 23