Guided Through Strife

The deeper I sink, still I falter, still I stumble, still I measure

my worth against another's gleam. And I ask myself in this waking

dream. How can I tell a soul not to fall when my own

steps still limp, still crawl? A war within, a tearing strife. My flesh,

it screams to flee. My spirit, it yearns to stand.

My mind, Lord, my mind is weary, bone-deep tired.

But You, Lord, You are always there, a steady light,

a silent grace, even in the shadows, in the muddled space.