Poetry

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Father, If wisdom is more precious
than gold, then let my mind be it’s
dwelling place. The folly caused by
My child-like heart grows old,
in its unrelenting pace.

If I am perceived to be wise
when I am silent, then hold
my jaws shut. My temper is
quick in it’s violence, my tongue
sharp when it begins to cut.

Let joy come from my
beautiful wife, whom You
chose for me when I was
young. I do not want to
lose my home, or my life
to some stranger that she
would take comfort from.

I do not want to be a door
on it’s hinge, that folds
back and forth on it’s bed.
I want to work hard with my
hands, to earn my bread instead.

I do not see lions in the streets,
I do not want in other people’s
quarrel, to be. Lord, save me
from my folly, I want my life to show I always
fear You. And may I always
be jolly, and to You be true.

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