a carmelite

Fray Titus knelt to pray in his cell

To meditate at night.

A statue of John of the Cross

Was all that he could see.

His coarse brown habit fit him well,

A novice distracted

By light from a far away world.

Not a sound could he hear.


Distractions abounded that night

As he stayed all alone.

 Only his silent vocation

would he have for a friend.

A Little Way to pray for souls

With nada and todo.

Fray Titus was so happy now

As he knelt in his cell.





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