As David of old
I write my psalm
To a tight held fist
Or to an open palm
A door cracked open
to invite me in
A God of mercy
Or one to condemn
If we question the answer
Is it faith much less
Or an expectation
Of His love confess
In obvious imperfection
We are all ..minus Two
Now the first is not me
And the second not you
We are not empty
And we are not so full
As to push from Your table
When we think You are cruel
This prose is a prayer
To the God of all "one's"
Individuals you've created
Lost daughter's and son's
Bring us all in
And bring me back too
To creation's first charge
Made perfect in You
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