Lord

You got me.
Now,
What would you have me to say?

In what pattern would you instruct these lips made of flesh
to waltz?.

Intertwined
With your spirit

Breath of my lungs flows concurrently insinc with
Whispers of wind originating from
heaven’s open window
Which glares loving

At me.

Pleasantly yet ferociously prodding my lips to move.
My pen to write
My fingers to type
In an act of lyrical desperation I scribe: “All I got is one mic!”

Unable to adequately form words and phrases exaulting you in poetic praises
In new,
Elegant
Outlandish
Flamboyant
Whimsical
Ways

I’m feeling
All I’ve got is one mic
& one me
& In this moment
Lord.

What would you have me to say?

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