Oh Lord, Help me to write a single true thing, and it will be
Obviously Your handiwork. Like a sparrow taking flight
Or the daily sky-filling dance of the celestial host
Softly reassure the ostensibly incredulous men
Of a skeptical age. But a hint of honest work lurking
In my doughy frame, well, a global conflagration of faith
Would surely result. The new Philadelphia miracle
Pricking the pickled hearts of jaded reporters and jejune
Bloggers. I hear they say a prophet is not without honor-
I forget the rest, but if in your plenitude you could send
A doe-eyed fact-checker in a size zero dress I’d nail
The quote down. My story I would share the world over for a
Small fee to cover my costs, and a large fee to cover my
Wife’s. I pray you would not disdain my pleas for worldly lucre,
Or worldly fame, and perhaps goodly looks, for all are to Your
Glory. Help me, Lord, a procrastinating writer to start
Telling of your love, and capturing finally a small part.
