Sacrament Of The Saint (Prayer) Poem by Louis Borgo

I ask the lord can i have the strength to smith thee,
skepth like a rod,
apathy to loath thee,
where is a truth pastor to loath me,
indeeding the script.

love your enemy as you love your selve,
with those words i found courage to disclose,
hate it feelings.

sight the world of pure vertuce,
of thunding mountain,
and damp sea of browling,
stomp the heaven's and,
weep out the creed,
never to see, please reread.

the fury of hell,
swallow the ceiling,
and burn th sky why? why question,
climb the top of the ladder and please praise a good preacher.

follow absence to search the wonder of the world,
wound and plead,
storm to largentily,
to scale by harmony,
to la veil the truth,
i have witness the truth.

(ps 102: 27 IS 45: 5 18: 22) (Jersulem 46 :)
see now, that i even, iam,
he is no god with in me....

eyes of a beast never to be know,
prayer with in to be found and found,
over look as a track heven to disapper,
as a voyage to hell search reach a true scale.

and reveil to me as a new me,
to the world as a ligt of thee here, here is me,
and at the end of the day i would like to think MMA choice me,
not knowing my boundes.

the words is written maybe even as a illustration,
view my thought kin to thought kin to sheep,
pain and revelation ask and i will tell,
.
with in metaphysic we found self reason,
so i turn,
move to tears to the script,
is predestination a choice,
void to answer just belief.

(2 sam 4: 4)
And Achism answered and said to david i know tha thought ART good in my sight as an angel of god....

found my way,
a youth of a poet at it findness,
a young philosphy at it best,
consicence at the monitor of vision,

to talk of hate,
spark with in redemption,
the stone of the script,
why should we view it as new as it been already written,
A latin day saint in the beginning....