In the chasm between wakefulness and sleep, I often find myself stirring with thoughts that don’t always feel like my own.  Last night I managed to have bouts of full consciousness to write them down.  Given this context, forgive me if none of this short stanza makes any sense.  And yes, some of these words are pulled directly from the Bible. 
Your mercies, they hold me between hems.

Canons of color and sound are the stitches that keep straight the path, 

and though my soul errs to drift, my feet are set with the new dawn –

O, that I would be sure-footed as the deer on the mountainside.

Even at night, Your word is pure, and leads me in the way everlasting.

Narrow is the way to You –

were it wide, would I ever wander.


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