LETTER TO GOD

Dear God,

Can I ever be bold to make light of the numberless

miracles you have sent me only this year?

Can I place my successes on my front room 

shelves without good confession—

Of how my feet were only led and hands learnt to 

pick them up?

Wouldn't I be an awful ingrate if I sit behind my

thought, pound my chest 

And say, "Oh hail Wiliword! You took the years carefully in your hands" ?

I would certainly not be less than a nincompoop 

who would soon be paying for his nonchalance.

For this, God, I count my blessings twice.

I count them twice!

Take this harmonious incense of gratefulness 

flowing from your son's heart.

I do rest the days ahead too in thy hands.

Unto you I will forever run.

Wrap off evil,

Keep aligning me to purpose,

Let your will be done.

Amen!

Your dear son,

Wiliword