PRAYER OF THE SAXON

Prayer of the Saxon:

It’s yet another day, time to moisten the soil with our sweat. The pains from last time, can’t hold us back. Not even the blood oozing form my palm can make me stop. I look up to the heavens for some sort of help. I quickly remembered all my answers. Proverbs 14:23

"In all toil there is profit, but mere talk tends only to poverty." I kept my faith to move on in this journey yet something keeps yelling in my head” ye are forsaken by the one above” 

The voice seemed right; sun keeps shining as though, it wants to suck my soul. There is no sort of satisfaction in sight, I’m dying out here. No one seeks to save my soul.I may live like an outcast but, I am in my own empire. If you do not want to help me, why do you call me? I wish for death but, death is on a vacation; it has no interest in a wretched soul like me. My life is on the line. I try to hold on tight but it keeps slipping out of my grip. Even though I try to keep it within my grips yet, It does more harm than good. It keeps cutting through my flesh layer by layer. How do I survive? Every single act I do, every effort I put backfire at some point and lash me in the back. No matter how hard I try, life keeps fading. My path right now, is quite unclear. Those surge of pains,’ make me scared. Something tells me quit but, I can’t do that. I will only back down if death lays it’s cold hands on me.

I was taught that for every action, there is an equal yet opposite reaction. I guess that law doesn’t hold in my world. Every good thing I do, serves me a double dose of the opposite reaction. Even if I act with a clean mind, it turn out bloody and unfortunate. Now, my heart is a living testimony of all pains and hardships I have endured. Scars on my face restrain all sorts of smiles. I may have a beautiful heart yet, I may never be given a chance to prove it. I’m a monster among men; a beast among my people.

Save my wretched soul from distress.

Let me not die in vain nor my strength wasted for nothing. I know that my end is nigh, yet grant me the courage to leave with all smiles; for I have cried enough on this barren land.

Save my soul.

 St. Louis XLIV