God You hide inside my poem,
Lurking there, weave in and out,
Thinks me, I have created this,
But not! You are here and find me out.
Where could I go where you are not?
You seek me early, are my soul's blood.
Chase away I so oft desire,
But in my life, is Your life hid.
You weaved my life, before the earth,
Weaving through till I was born.
Ever present and yearn to help, my
burgeoning life and my side's thorn.
So weave at will inside my poem,
Fight to death, my battling will.
Till I'm created in your image.
Until life rings and rhymes so well.
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