Knees bent to the floor,
My thoughts are straying toward the door
And of flight, and fright.
If my works will please forevermore.
Lord above, if You exist,
Please don't make my best rhymes this.
Let me find that greatest Art
Within You, and Your divine Spark.
That majestic word of Yours,that Grace
That flings itself to and fro through space
And time, it is an age.
The reason my hands stretch for the page.
My prayer? I pray for love
Love of mine that extends far above.
I pray for wisdom, I pray for a mind
To deal with those who drag me behind.
Small words and ink are all I can do.
Above all, may my work please You.
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