Each Friday I post one of my poems, usually from my archive, until I run out.
O omnipotent Lord of space and time,
Weaver of history’s rich tapestry,
Unpick my life and let me live it o’er,
That I might, knowing lessons learned too late
This first time through, and with your greater help,
Better do your will, to your greater glory.
I first met friends I now see were my best
When I was but a lad of less than ten,
And, as I did most people, I ignored them
For the most part. Alas! to live again
Those youthful days, to be to them
The friend they were to me!
I probably wrote this sometime late last year; I most likely intended to add another stanza, or at least a few more lines, but this much stands passably well alone and I can’t remember where I planned to go with the rest. I revised a few phrases slightly while preparing to post it. As always I welcome your comments, questions, critique, suggestions, or other feedback on this poem or any other part of my work.
Cross-posted to my wiki.