Compliment not my wordsmithery, I urge you,

I play with words a game of marionettes,

My pen scripts zealous terms to voodoo,

North I declare, and north he sets,

A swatch of deceptive ink reels a few,

Retreat and bid you summon your bets,

But, alas, my words were coined to woo,

One line ensnares your virtue in my nets.


O Lord

Lord, no word is sufficient to praise Thee,

I thank the falls that were to my benefit,

One supplication sets my worry free,

I thank any destiny to me You’ve writ,

With days, You’ve urged my eyes to see,

That any path You drew is well-fit.