Lord, if you are moving, let me still myself.
Let me be a pauper of a vision to myself
so that all eyes–my eyes–stay steadfastly on You.
Sometimes I declare You give me words and I thrash
about. They are like unruly children with a fierce
energy and agenda of their own. Slow me way down, Lord,
like a low creek bed in a cavernous mountain. Create
a covenant in me, between us–the intimate bounty
You pay let me always remember. Let me always
cling to the truth of cost and sacrifice and that none
of it was me.