How be the zeal of my will,
for man does fall short
Such is man, imperfect as He,
still He of perfect Love loves the imperfect.

My flesh loves crying for desires,
I know I shouldn't follow.
I'm weak, beneath flesh and bone,
as the Spirit is the only. Stronger!
Underneath this earthly vessel.

But the Spirit is in a
constant hunger
As flesh does hunger for flesh,
a Spirit hungers meditation of The Word.

The heart though being
evil at times, still has Love to give
Though the mind often thinks
the unholy, there are still some good lessons for it to teach.

Though a hand is accustomed
to harm
The other holds aid.
Despite the feet's missteps
they aren't misplaced in your ways.

So like the compass,
guiding a ship in chaotic sea
Be as my True North and guide me.