I fled him down the nights and down the days
But I ran unaware I would be caught.
For love is greater yet than rebel ways
And would that I had known t'was all for naught.
I am too loved to be left free to stray
And he the gracious one my freedom bought.
I need not flee as though a sinner scorned;
For rather, I am sought, loved, and reborn.
postscript
For day 10. The ottava rima. From Francis Thompson: "I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter." Read the whole thing here: www.bartleby.com/236/239.html