Midnight, O midnight: when will you be mine?
I’m weary of letting my little light shine.
I fear that I’m getting a bit more aligned
With religious nuts everywhere, calling for signs,
With fidgety monks, covered hair, falling in line.
The people You tend to catch aren’t my type.
They’re flimsy and fatuous, less substance than hype.
And then I remember, I’m one of them too.
When I dismember us, I mutilate You.

Midnight, O midnight, when will you be mine?
I’m weary of letting my little light shine.
Lord, all I receive is never my own,
But I’m told: believe, and I’ll give you a throne.
You give and You take and You won’t let me be,
I live and I make and I sow: don’t You see?
If You’re God, the question remains: why not act?
But You’re rocky; You reap Your refrains, and I lack.
Stock up on struggle, heart, leap to the fray,
The One Who will part you is the One Who will stay.

Midnight, O midnight: when will you be mine?
I’m weary of letting my little light shine.
Lord, the work must be done. The light dims,
The fields are rich, and the work force is slim.
I need Your need deeply (You gave me that too)
To plant Your seed freely (true faith comes from You)
When night comes, Your people will sleep as the dead.
I’ll triple Your goodness, then lay down my head
On a breast full to bursting of patience and grace,
And rise in the morning. Oh, lift up my face!

“Then another servant came and said, ‘Sir, here is your mina; I have kept it laid away in a piece of cloth. I was afraid of you, because you are a hard man. You take out what you did not put in and reap what you did not sow.’ His master replied, ‘I will judge you by your own words, you wicked servant! You knew, did you, that I am a hard man, taking out what I did not put in, and reaping what I did not sow? Why then didn’t you put my money on deposit, so that when I came back, I could have collected it with interest?’ Then he said to those standing by, ‘Take his mina away from him and give it to the one who has ten minas.’ ‘Sir,’ they said, ‘he already has ten!’ He replied, ‘I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given, but as for the one who has nothing, even what they have will be taken away. But those enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and kill them in front of me.’”
Luke 19:12‭-‬27

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
gold dust prayer
eat the song
ninety-nine reasons to stay
before you kiss him
exitus acta probat
i am thankful

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