At times, I have been proud of being bright,
of giving light as if it were my own,
like writers who enlighten when they write,
illuminating what had been unknown.
And though the light has flickered off and on,
or sometimes isn’t luminous but dim,
I still felt it was mine, as if the dawn
was at my beck and call, to suit my whim.
But I know I am powerless and dark
without Your love—Your electricity—
and I, at best, give off a little spark
from You—the source of luminosity.
As humble bulb, pride can’t go to my head,
because I know You give the light I shed.
Mario A. Pita