I
don’t ask for a life of ease, or to beg a crust
Nor
do I ask for that which will profit me
But
will take from me instead to profit another
It
is for a poured-out life, I yearn – more – I plead
That
the life in my depths be as the source of a star
For
what would I be in this world other than a light?
If
my life was not as a burning beacon it was as nothing.
If,
I could ask for what I long for, it would be this:
To
be a spring – where others could drink from
And
be replenished
To
be bread – from which any may happily eat
And
be strengthened
To
be a voice – such as any who hear it might rejoice
And
find fit company in inimitable loneliness.
Not
only am I fit to serve when I am strong
But
when I am weak
This
then is my hope, that strength be not my own
For
this alone works miracles.
Any
influence of power is as much to be felt
In
the stark black ebb tides of my life
As
in the sunlit days, of life upon the flood tides
What
pulls from me returns; what takes, gives.
If
strength could be received, in return
For
faith and hope in these few child-words,
Then
would I be full, and my work done.
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