I’m not the light. In darkness, I’m certain,
You are the light – I only open the curtain.
The body is a dead end street, and You,
for reaching to heaven, the only avenue.
Your walking on the waves has not been beat,
though stepping on the moon was quite a feat.
Although, by now, my many years have piled,
I hope – O Love – I’m nonetheless your child.
Because I love to write for You, I’m wordy,
but may I – more importantly – be worthy.
My deepest plea, O please do not refuse me,
is that You will, despite my failings, use me.
May I belong to You from whom life pours,
forever – Creator and Savior – solely yours.
Mario A. Pita