The LORD does. But how my flesh is...everything the Scriptures declare.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXLIII)
Let's talk about things other than the scale Of my affection for who cares. How dense Blue racks are in the lack of shadows hence, Or how the sparrows gaily cry in pale Excuse for my 'non feeling like what they'll Call, erm, a "*****." Yes of, for aught intents The LORD's great mercies, though I can't see thence Past this torn minute's burdens to avail. Reschedule lo, my hours whiles I in poor 'Scuse think that someone's cruel and rouse me to Um, foolish oh, complaints. I've read as twere How Israel'd oft complain, and thought I knew Far better, yet I cry against Thee fer The umpteenth time, O LORD. Help me now too.