Inspired by Ben Fold's Five 'The Luckiest'.
I sat before the piano and I could
not play,
for my fingers seemed
too hesitant.
I tried to sing, and my voice
failed.
I began to weep, knowing no
voice nor song played would
ever amount to the strength
of my heartbeat
for you.
I sat beneath a great oak tree.
I watched its boughs tremble
at the greatness of life.
Its trunk was wide and dark
and rough with years of wisdom.
As I looked through the space
in between each branch,
I saw your face.
I've made so many mistakes.
I've listened to the wrong voices and followed
the wrong paths.
I've dwindled in dark places.
I've dreamed nightmares.
Yet, still.
I come to you, blemished.
Wrinkled. Slightly used.
And you welcome me with
the largest embrace, with the
grace of the grandest oak tree.
And you let me sleep amongst
your roots, curled, safe,
content.
I love you more than any
song. I love you more
than any idyllic dream.
I love you so much
I weep.
You tell me God
has so much to do He
cannot concern Himself with details.
What other testament need I
to prove you wrong?
Your limitless love is all
the proof I need--
God forgives me all those iniquites.
And here you are.
And here I am-
wrinkled, blemished, slightly used
and I know I am indeed the luckiest.
-For Michael
