Boundless is Thy musing.
The words, which appear
on this blank slate-
These words, which come
to and shed light.
So deep are these great
Mysteries. Unknown is every
stroke before their inception.
A gift beyond comprehension.
My work made reflective.
Unworthy are my hands
to convey Your love.
Untamed, my mind, which
receives Thy message.
Unprepared am I to
grasp these passions sowed.
Yet moved are my fingers upon
this blank canvas of letters.
I listen and You write.
Make me an instrument of this lease.
That I do not seek to write
as to receive dictation.
