It's true that
some of the most
beautiful hymns
never find their way home;
yes, the promised land
exists, but it is
full of empty cans
and ghosts.
And don't even ask
how many good deeds
never get off the ground,
because there are loads
of them rotting
in the fields as we speak,
or else packed
in an attic, gathering dust.
But still, you must
try to do the
next right thing,
even when you fear
the failure of your body
to endure the cost;
even when you're
sure it's useless;
don't know
what to say, it
doesn't matter—for
not every
desperate blunder
spurs us on to failure;
not every prayer
that flounders
is lost.
