Sonnet I

When I tire of repentance-cycle life,

Turning violently back upon myself,

I move to match my lurking shadow-strife

And place my Holy Sword upon a shelf 

Then the darkness that ever creeps behind

Is accomplice to my dark revelry

Sinful acts and idleness are entwined

In the start of a growing devilry

Not caring to struggle in a lost fight

I let the heavy chains encircle me

Because I know that I have not the might

To climb out of the valley and walk free

The still small Voice after fire reminds

I need not my own strength to break the binds