Great One, retire my insistence upon

remembrances of ways and times and talk

that match not God-viewed reality.

 

Darken my bright skies if only

to ensconce my darkness,

shattering all illusions of self-projected greatness.

 

Pry open the coffins of dreams long forgotten,

commitments never kept, promises never made,

if only to unleash the surprise of grace.

 

Scatter my nice collections of mantelpiece spiritual kitsch

and replace them with broken glass, bits of string, yesterday’s ashes

if only to remind me of my own frailty.

 

Tear the gilded pages from my life’s journal

and use them like fish-wrap to enfold

someone else’s yet to be written story.

 

Plant new gardens of life

from places of my own death.

 

Spur on to greatness the little ones

from my own obscure forgottenness.

 

Prop up their ailing mistresses of peace and hope

with the severed arms of my own distress.

 

Renew in light the victimized, en-shadowed and de-spoiled

with my own pursuits fit only for stolen kingships.