My particles are divided into millions of pieces, Parts of which are of sin, And some of virtue, Out of them, how many parts should I crimp? And how many should I ignore?
Collecting the broken pieces, Without knowing the pain of discrete particles... Somewhere else now suffering from all the pain, where everything is going in vain... But somewhere... With all these suffering it feels like a tungsten which is resistant in all circumstances...
Loneliness is like those gas particles which in a gas cylinder, roam here and there vigorously and apply all their pressure on the walls of the cylinder to come out of it.
Lord please send me Your spiritual army - angelic particles to come and surround me. Not just around me but to also enter my pores; all the cells of my body are like small subtle doors. Let them permeate my being and rid me of my pollution that will be the prelude to my inner revolution. Let your spiritual army remove my darkness from within - then my resurrection will truly start to begin.
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