Lord of the blind and those who will not see,
replace our black with grey;
our grey with white;
our white with light;
and all that is not what it seems will become what it must be.
Lord of the destitute and drawn-out,
lance these boils of sin-soaked pain
in the brine of salted, holy blood;
revive what we never knew was dead;
that the winds might catch your scent – the fragrance of grace.
Lord of the convinced and righteous,
remove from us our certainties;
our ambivalence toward ambiguities;
our reticence to swim in the waters of paradox;
that the world gets to see your way in us, not our way with you.
Lord of the fractured and forgotten,
seek out the silenced voices encased in amber
where no one hears their desperate choking;
no eye sees inside their deceiving exteriors;
find them and with white hot love, melt their prisons.
Lord of the shiny and gleaming,
scratch our taut and brittle surfaces;
add the character of time to our faux beauty;
send us the numbing ache of obscurity;
so that your gentle glow outshines our brash gleam.
Lord of all that lives,
plow the musky mutations from our once-breathing gardens;
unbalance our stiletto lives that teeter precariously;
releasing us from our cramped smallness;
that our spirits may once again yawn and stretch into life.