The quest has but only begun for me, and it is becoming apparent that the intensity of the present routines are seemingly insufficient to allow distinction, pun definitely intended. I begin to puzzle over the means through which I will be able to attain merit within the circumscribed amount of time which I have within my control at present, while others are ostensibly dashing their final lap of the race, much to my stupefaction and dismay. What can I do to salvage this wreck that I have seemingly arranged for myself?
The war is near its end, and it would take only the best strategian to be able to carry this perilous circumstance to a victorious conclusion. A hideous caterpillar into a stunning butterfly; a troglodyte into a man of distinction. I have the best strategian with me, but circumstances would only unravel favourably if I desire it as much as I work towards it. I see the way that the Guide is pointing me to, a desolate path filled with impediment, leading towards the Utopia. I have to find a way to induce the Flesh to take the path less travelled, away from the unobstructed path to self-destruction. Utopia or dystopia? The answer would lie in how I manage to handle my case and how I fight against my insidious wants.
I have been the culprit,
To my selfish needs.
Wash me in Your cleansing flow,
Take my hands and make it work,
For the goodness of Your love.
Wash me in unfailing mercy,
Take my life and let it shine,
For Your Kingdom's Glory fine.
I'm letting go,
Of false control.
Now all I know,
Your forgiveness and embrace.
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