if God speaks to us
in language
ever so eloquently

it bewilders me
to think we’d reply
in anything but poetry


we think so grandly of ourselves,
that we’re walking to Him,
the truth is we’re stagnant,
it is He that has come rushing to our aid,
over and over,
and we think the carpet is not red enough,
the pedestal is not high enough,
the crown is not big enough,
it’s never enough,
but He is there,
of ingratitude,
of our oblivion.


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