A poem about: O Lord,I come to You as one who does not arrive cleanly.Even this turning toward You feels compelled rather than chosen—as though something in me continues to face Youwhile another part insists on watching the turning happen,unable to enter it fully.I do not know how to believe without resistance.My mind interrupts what I intend as prayerand makes it analysis instead of surrender.I ask for forgiveness, though even that word feels uncertain in my mouth—for not being able to give You what I do not know how to give.For this divided attention that cannot become whole.And still, I remain oriented toward You,as if the orientation itself is not entirely mine to refuse.If there is prayer here,it is only this continued addressfrom within doubt that does not stop speaking.

O Lord,I come to You as one who does not arrive cleanly.Even this turning toward You feels compelled rather than chosen—as though something in me continues to face Youwhile another part insists on watching the turning happen,unable to enter it fully.I do not know how to believe without resistance.My mind interrupts what I intend as prayerand makes it analysis instead of surrender.I ask for forgiveness, though even that word feels uncertain in my mouth—for not being able to give You what I do not know how to give.For this divided attention that cannot become whole.And still, I remain oriented toward You,as if the orientation itself is not entirely mine to refuse.If there is prayer here,it is only this continued addressfrom within doubt that does not stop speaking.

O Lord, I come before You, incomplete,
A soul divided, unsure of its own retreat.
Compelled by forces I cannot name,
Yet turning, hesitant, to Your holy flame.

In this awkward dance of doubt and prayer,
My mind disrupts with its need to compare.
I intend to surrender, yet grasp at control,
Analysis seizing the depth of my soul.

Forgive, if You will, this uncertain plea,
As I struggle to offer what eludes me.
My words falter, caught in a tangled weave,
Yearning to trust, yet hesitant to believe.

Still, a mysterious pull keeps me near,
A heart's quiet whisper, a soul's silent tear.
Even within doubt, my gaze does not stray,
This broken prayer, O Lord, is my only way.

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O Lord, I come before You, incomplete, A soul divided, unsure of its own retreat. Compelled by forces I cannot name, Yet turning, hesitant, to Your holy flame. In this awkward dance of doubt and prayer, My mind disrupts with its need to compare. I intend to surrender, yet grasp at control, Analysis seizing the depth of my soul. Forgive, if You will, this uncertain plea, As I struggle to offer what eludes me. My words falter, caught in a tangled weave, Yearning to trust, yet hesitant to believe. Still, a mysterious pull keeps me near, A heart's quiet whisper, a soul's silent tear. Even within doubt, my gaze does not stray, This broken prayer, O Lord, is my only way.