I used to say I will not think about Him, I will not speak His name any more.
Then there seemed to be a fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones.
To go to church even to pray can be such a chore.
Sometimes, it is so long and boring, one groans.

Oft times I think of giving up witness.
I certainly think often that faith should not perhaps be talked about.
Not least because of one own’s spiritual fitness.
If you are so weak in faith and good works what right have you to shout.

The effort wearies me.
I would rather lie still.
My goal, or what is true, in truth I cannot tell.
My heart is churning like a mill storm driven.

But there is always another dawn after a dark night.
And on another day I hope I will see the light.