Published: Written in Horley, UK

Escaping the pickling jar

Illustration of a jar with a pickle in it.

Pickled beyond recognition
Partly because of my own carnal ambition
A dear price to pay for self-preservation
It seems I have been serving a god of my own religion.

Is there a way to escape this toxic juice?
Or do I just hold up a flag and declare a truce
God have mercy, for I have lost my way
All because of my propensity to stray.

Now I know my faith is weak
But I don’t believe your plan for me is bleak
A growing longing to see again
And to trust your great promises are Yes and Amen.

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