Lilacs are blooming, wind is blowing, I am sneezing, and the swallowtails are back!
How can I make my ambition Your ambition?
Every now and then, unworldly inspiration and imagination penetrates
this sin-chained mind, this bone-bound spirit,
and I rejoice,
but just as quickly, flesh presses in—
pride presses in,
puffing me up, showing me what a wonderful thing I did for God.
Is there any hope to live a pure life,
a noble life,
when wriggling in skin and bone, a soul enslaved?
But to be free.