I do not know what's best for me
But that's not what I think,
As thoughts betray
My wicked heart
That lusts for my own way
Through the muddied water
Of recurring illusion
I stray once more,
Unconvinced of my own folly
Except in Spirit mild,
Its power contained in Words
I must seek for correction,
Repenting again and again
Of this consuming idolatry.