“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”
― L.P. Hartley, The Go-Between
The past counts many nations
Amongst life’s jigsaw cartography
Some remaining fondly cherished
Ohers which rail hard against me still
Enemies haunting my countenance
False allies clouding my mind
Tarnishing my memory’s mirror
Whetting Accusation’s bladed tongue
‘Til a storm of harsh self-loathing
Consumes its pathway, and destroys
So man can no longer feign appeasement
Becoming once again, with himself at war
Lord let me forget the former things
Leaving them adrift in progress’ wake
Let me well not within the past,
May the bygones, be truly gone
Exorcising the unfulfilled,
Let me live now for this present age
Banishing all ungodliness
Seeking first and ever, Your righteous path
Let me hope in You for the future things
As they spring forth; let me perceive;
Give my heart’s eye Your Spirit’s foresight
And may my hands and mouth serve Your plans
written in response to today’s prompt at The Daily Post
