God of Justice, God of Grace,
I ask your mercy, some stroke of intervention.
Or perhaps grant me now the strength to stand and use
this sword you gave me, make one choice I was sure
I would never have to make. I did not think, having
come this far through all the ages, I would
be blinded by the light of love, 
seeking some other way out. 

I accepted your call and have
by all your requests done my best, 
sacrificing where necessary all that might
deter me or diestract me, standing in silence
as every last one of my comforts were seized
and I left shivering, the laughingstock,
one alone from whom all others
avert their eyes, retreating. 

Even I no longer wish to turn
my eyes to face the beauty or the ruin.
I see all that was planned coming to fruition, even
if all my pieces are misshapen and my mind a pile
of mush, barely remembering most days why I ever
said yes to this when in the company of angels.
And, still, I will fulfill the call,
whether I may rise or fall.

God of Justice, God of Grace,
I ask your mercy, some stroke of intervention.