SMALLNESS
My Lord, my God, my King,
What am I before you?
A fraction of the world of clay
You mold within your mighty hands?
A single soldier in armies vast,
Assembled over all of time?
One tiny flower amidst the acres
Blooming wild in the sun of your making?
A colorful fish in a school of millions
Within the giant ocean’s deep?
Or a beautiful shell, buried in sand,
As yet undiscovered on miles of coast?
Lone bird on the wing in a sky full of danger
Lost in a cloud of all others that fly?
A fading ripple upon the waters
Defining existence in physical terms?
Yet none of this vanity matters,
The answers to hypothetical questions,
For your ways are beyond tracing out,
More complex than we could fathom,
A force over which we stumble,
In minds of your own making.
As creations of a maker we only hope to know
In spirit and truth, based on telling words, ancient,
We trust not in what we can see with vision,
For our sight is narrow, our thoughts confined,
The works of our hands pathetic attempts
At mimicry such as a child for its parent,
Following the only leader he can imagine
And trusting implicitly the father’s wisdom -
Not only in teaching the lessons of life
But in caring for the naive child,
Reaching, needing, asking, seeking love.
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