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Edwin Markham is a favorite of mine. I found a large book in a used book store, "Masters of Religious Verse" edited by James Morrison. It is enormous, full of beautiful things from authors both known and unknown.
I actually write Christian poetry here is one of them and forgive me for any mispelling my fingers type so fast when I get into this I sometimes misspell
What I long to say I am mute, what I long to hear I am deaf. Where I long to walk I am crippled, where I cry for purity and healing I am a leper. How my soul cries for clarity oh Lord, how my heart seeks and listens but hears no sound. To my king, my beloved my cherished one hear your servants cries, let him that has ear to hear hear, let him that has tongue to speak speak let him that has feet follow.
For my soul my king is torn entwine. my spirit speaks things I know not nor can I confide in, my heart sings a song in which I know the tune but not the words and my mind ponders but dismisses. It is to my desperation oh precious one that your servant cries, in the only way that he knows he writes to his king.
For indeed desperate am I and silent is your lips, your spirit flows with each song every word spoken and every moving image but alas I cannot hear nor do I understand. To you I write in hope, in your I leave my prayer. If you should speak to me lord then let me hear, if I hear let me listen. If I listen let me understand, if I understand then let me move.
For I hear it father as a small voice, I feel it lord as a stirring fire, I sense it lord as a river of water and yet the bedrocks cascade the flow and I in my weakness cannot drink. To you father I beg to you my love I come in desperate need. If you should speak to your servant then let your words roar like thunder so that even the deaf can hear, if you should show him wonders in visions then let it be as brilliant as the sky so that even the blind can see.
If you speak such things to your servants heart he would listen, if you would show him such things he could see. As a scholar he years to understand, as an artist he craves to paint as a sinner he dreams of your righteousness. But my lord as you have spoken things to your servant and stirred his spirit will you not hear his soul in it's cries? can you not see my king how he seeks, how he knocks, how he asks but the door remains locked?
For you know why I write, you hear what my heart sings and what my soul cries, you know my lord all that oppose me all that stumbles me. You know all I ask and in why I ask. And so in according to your word my king for you are not a liar let him who ask be given