Lord, my heart is tangled in schemes and ambitions.
I am a knotted yarn wrapped around a hollow ball.
How can I mend myself without finding my beginning?
Each day there is another turn of string,
     each month another layer,
     the knots buried deeper and deeper.

Reach into me with your narrow fingers.
Between the densely wound threads
     find my knots and loosen their hold.
Then pull me until my shell is bare,
     and when I am dizzy from unravelling
     wind my piled pride into skeins of praise.

—Eric Nelson