The Word. Or just words.

My honesty is selective.

Here, I have a choice.

To speak, to read,

Determine

If I should raise my voice.

 

I am, tonight, encouraged

By what I see before me;

That honesty

And wisdom

Is in prose

As well as poetry.

 

My awe at God’s endeavours

To open up my mind,

To clarify

My thoughts and           

Heart.

To seek and so to find

 

Wisdom born of generations,

Truths from far off lands,

I bow and kneel before

God’s wisdom

So informed and so well planned,

In words from others,

I confess,

In great humility,

I am not worthy,

This is clear

By words laid out in honesty.

I beseech

Some leniency

In judgement.

I really don’t belong,

Except, perhaps, that God decrees

That something in my song

May reach and teach as you have done,

Or colour my description

Of all that matters here

On earth,

A lucid, dear depiction

Of love and trust

Well understood,

Of wisdom found in

All that’s good

And wholesome

In some just reward.

Is this why God

Created Word?

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