Move

I wrote the sonnet above in the 1990s when my life was adrift. When has it not been? But it seemed that nothing was happening and there was such immobility and stasis. I was a bridge hand in the waiting mode, looking to win my tricks, but the time for me was interminably slow.  My job, my personal life all yielded a void, somehow, and the writing goals I had were on treacherous hold. I was growing older and there was no stopping the clock. I needed to MOVE!  

Eventually, even a slug moves or dies. I was, as in many periods of my life, near death, death...of the will, heart and soul. And I cried out to God. My soul released some of its torment. He came and helped...and lead me away from death's maws and readied me for the next crying out. 
                             MOVE

Oh Father, lift me up. My spirit's low,
And lead me to your pastures soft and warm,
Away from treacherous shoals and labyrinth's woe,
And darkness, smothering will to static forms.
Oh Father, spur my spirit toward the fields
Of light and rest and peace, sweet action's womb.
Produce momentum; in energy do seal
My essence. Repel the vacuum, inaction's tomb.
Oh Father, fasten my conscience to your Love.
Fire my will to melt with  Yours, then seat,
Me in Your wisdom's throne. And Holy Dove,
Enfold me in Your wings; the void defeat.
Cruel resignation, stasis and delay,
Are vanquished by Jehovah's Will and Way.