Squeezed out

Is it all come to waste, for I have built without the means to finish? The means I had accepted I have squandered. Taking for granted the one who has loaned a great deal to me.

Truly wretched I have made myself in your eyes, o Lord, but I have seen your disgust and have made myself low. For you share your look and crush my bones, still they rejoice for your will hath ordered it well.

My rising is proud and vain, for quickly I am pressed like grapes. Still mercy is evidenced by constant intervention.

Where can I go from your spirit?
from your presence where can I flee?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I sink to the nether world, you are
present there.

a reply to: backcase

Somebody’s trippin’.

a reply to: KKLOCO
Part of the post is from Psalm 139.