Poetry

Marshes of Sin (#150)

Marshes of Sin have me deep at the waist,
Its mud is a thick, dirty, polluted paste,
Despite its thickness, it acts like quicksand,
The only thing that can save me is Jesus’ hand,
I cannot avoid sin and its eventual betrayal,
Because I am merely human and mortally frail,
Reeds and grasses attempt to snag and grab,
Beneath its waters, creatures scrape and stab,
Rising tides threaten, and I see no escape,
The marshes of sin are a foreboding landscape,
Dear Lord, keep me safe and on the path of right,
Lead me and always be my source of light,

Any Thoughts?

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