*Thursday Night at St. John's*

Thursday night.
The church dimly lit.
Candles shed tears.
Amber flickers
In the thin air,
As my hand
Tightly grips
The only ladder
I have -
A humble circle
Of black wool,
Dense and vivid,
Each knot
Carefully woven
By an unknown monk
Somewhere in Athos.
It's my narrow path,
As I climb my mountain,
To salvation,
And now each knot
Hangs like a cliff,
My nails bite the rock,
As I whisper my belief
In You, my Lord!
This prayer
Bends my stiffness,
A warm remedy
For my aching soul.

One breath of my life,
One step at a time,
One knot of my climb

Draws me closer,

And closer, 
And closer

To You.

I pull myself up,
My knees feel the firmness
Of rocks, as I bow,
My soul cries out to God -

Hearken unto me, O Christ!

Fortify my trembling heart!
For I see the deep abyss,
A gap between me and Your peace.

Lord,
Have
Mercy
On
Me!

I plant 
These precious words,
Like the only treasure
That matters,
As a gardener,
Who has nothing left,
But these five sacred seeds,
I dig slow and deep,
Right in my heart
Filled with weeds of pride,
I bend down, ripping out
These thorny vines
In the mud of my ego,
I pry open my heart
Longing to be with You, 
Hoping these seeds will bloom
In eternal life
This Thursday night...

Andrey Gidaspov
3/30/2017

Russian Orthodox Cathedral of St John the Baptist in Washington, DC
April 4, 2019
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