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, by Peter Robbins
Robert L. Martin

Oh Glorious Surge

Oh glorious surge, my blessed awakening,
my reveille sounding from the sweetest sky,
slicing through the thick clouds on cue,
my arsenal answering my earnest callings,
my treasure stored up in my eager coffer,
the hallowed rage that gives me strength,
my corporal self advancing in its wake,
being pushed by the winds of the sacred currents,
my pliant self being propelled by outer forces,
the God outside coming inside of me,
commanding my blood to race through my veins,
to carry me with it to the promised lands,
the me, the doubtful one that I
made myself to be
 
into a new me that I became,
alienated from my apprehensive thoughts,
the me, a giant among the commoners,
my faith in me restored, my strength strengthened,
the me, waiting at the starting blocks
for the starting gun to go off.
 
Victory came to me as I surpassed
all other runners.
I reached the highest mountain.
My pride led the way but didn’t rule my spirit.
 
My faith in God and me was reinforced.
The human spirit is strengthened by his blessings.
Competition is a fraternal contest;
friends honoring each others’ strengths,
comparing it with one another,
seeing the assets in each other
while building one’s self up to match what he found.
All glory to God and the surge within.

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