Sometimes I awake and have forgotten who I am.  I have drifted out on an ebbing sea.  My soul no longer at rest, for I am by myself, and not with you.  Truth is an imperceptible moon on a blinding morning.  Everything is vanity and I am heart-sick.  Oh, you who know all things, save your forlorn child!

A dim aurora rises in my east, beyond the line of ancient, jagged questions.  As if the head of our High Priest began to glow behind the closed door of his tomb.  Surely golden wings are but a moment away!  But they do not appear.  And so I arise and press on harder, to meet the slow coming of the Master’s day.

Lord, what I once could have done with young strength, if only I had been true to Truth from the beginning, grant me to do now, old as I am.  My brain isn’t what it once was, but I have now better understanding and a heart that has learned humility.  In your gentleness and compassion, please lead me down the path of pain to be my best, even now as an Old Soul.  Give me back my young eyes, heart and brain.