I need a Sunday filled with looking at you.
No sermon.
Pillow and blanket at your house.
I need to hold fast your presence tightly.
Weeping, a resident, won’t stop showing up.
Unaware if I am growing up.
God, do not roll your eyes when you see me.
Father, don’t look away, annoyed.
*Violins flutter and drums become bold*
Am I crying loud enough, if not I’ll scream.
Nothing is good if I’m not in your light.
Money flies away, pleasure sways, friendships dry out, houseplants die.
Thieves break and steal, new toys lose all appeal, man’s favor is fickle, hands pinch previously they tickled.
*Interlude*
I believe, help my unbelief.
The place you showed me, the place where everyone smiles unafraid, can I see it forever?
Please instill being a better ambassador bringing forth excellent fruit.
Nourish me hair to toenails, have me praying even in my sleep.
