"...the baptists pioneered baptism"

concentration unabated
not a twitch in their brow
only a lingering intensity
soon manifesting possibly
in sweat drops of blood

echoes of praise
rising to the heavens
("an open heaven" they muse)
although all i perceive
is a closed mind

the altar beckons
will, desire, and reckless persistence
or perhaps even repentence
i cry myself again
reward in the pain?

another week
another stretch gone by
the tears still fall
amidst jabbering tongues
i almost begin to copy

Not by might, not by power
make haste for near is the hour

i want to follow, i want to be
yet the Spirit is far from me