May I be Purposed?

Have I sufficiently

Walked the fated mile

That then

Dawns the morn

Of execution

Fixation on immortality

Then, nailed to a tree

Puny cries

Of self-concern

Dashed upon the rocks

I feel the force

Of the winds 

Of change

The raging infernos

That raze the land

Burn within 

Guide me

I can 

No longer bare

The weight 

of futility

You know the way

You have a way

You are the way

Show me 

My creator 

I implore you

Direct my heart

Make thee use 

Mine sinew & bone

Both yours 

To be 

Directed 

By your will

Free me 

From the bondage

 Of a tyrannical

Intellect

That weaves

A smothering quagmire

Of immobilization

What's mine

Is your's anyway

Put you then

To good use

Through

Me

Amen

R. O'Neill (October 16, 2017)