I crave coffee, chocolate
and convenience.

You do not name yourself
The God of Easy Living,
and your reputation is not
upheld by my indulgences.

I work hard to keep
my little world intact.

You are not called
Holy Myopic One;
you see worlds and sytems
and connections, and you break
my little world out of isolation.

I want you to teach me,
use me, make me matter.

Your reputation is not staked on me.
The stones can sing your praises,
the sparrows are more obedient,
the withering grass is a
more faithful witness.

Let me make it, or at least
preserve me from failing.

Your life calls my life
to be and to love
(not to make or break)
and always, only, for your sake.