My Prayer Your Prayer

In a crowd or closet, My Prayer, is just for You; that I share with the Few,
who would be True, Too.

My Prayer Your Prayer
By Arley Steinhour 060417

LEAST of the LEAST,
Just short of a Beast,
With, Just enough Yeast,
That I be called ‘Priest.’

You called me by Name,
That I have some Fame,
In Salvation’s Holy Game,
In Redemption, I Flame.

The Tests that I took,
Without Second Look,
Bubbled through as a Brook,
All my Sins, you Overlook.

As if I were Pure, without a Sin,
A Mortal Purity that I cannot Win,
In the ‘Race, of the Fore-Skin,’
As if I be, Judean Linchpin.

You want me to ‘Witness,’
So, others have ‘Forgiveness,’
without, good or bad, ‘Litmus,’
To Prove, ‘Heavenly Fitness.’

I know you are ‘Just,’
As I know iron will Rust,
And, if I, alone must,
Find a way to Adjust.

You know what you Desire,
To Set Heart, Full Afire,
Without Accompanying Choir,
Nor, a Spirit-Pacifier.

Remember me, Please,
As I Pray on my Knees,
That, you I Appease,
Without Mortal Expertise.

AMEN