Some time ago, I made my way down to the crossroads, to try my lucky hand at the devil’s gaming tables.

I was seven years old. I approached the priest in earnest… “I want to take the lord Jesus in… He instructed me to kneel and pray… A week passed.

I’m not really here right now. I can only be here when no-one’s a… and I know no-one can see me. Even when i speak to you, I’m sort of not really here.

“Don’t say anything!” spoke the shadow in the doorway. I was seven years of age. I lay limp upon the couch, still recovering from

These words I cry do not come easily; as if they echo from the cold stone depths of a long forgotten tomb.

Within this pilgrim’s soul exists a hungry beggar waif, who can never afford a moment of indifference or distraction. Alert to every aching nuance

I commit myself to God; sometimes, not often. I believe in God; sometimes,

Here he comes again, riding tall upon his hellish steed… Dead eyes red, charging straight towards me. No joy in that demonic laugh,

My garments have been stripped awa… along with any hope of tender merc… These feet made bare and sorely bl… It’s time again to bear your earth… Still it seems you know not what y…

God has spoken. I have been listening, the message is clear. The psalm itself is silent, if the psalmist’s voice falls stil…