O Sweet Lord

O sweet poem
from where have you come
breathless
to be at the feet of the Lord?
Oh how unwittingly
you stare at Him
as if spellbound
by His dark form.
Oh my look now
what you’ve become
a blooming hibiscus
shy pink
against the black stone
of His toes.
His beauty has surely
stunned your mind
for why is the air not filled
with your song?
The words that sung His glories
are muffled
everywhere the drums of devotion
are beating
and here, in the temple
you’ve gone quiet.
I don’t know who puzzles me more
a tongue-tied poem
or a talking God?
O, sweet sweet Lord
What’s this trick?
Ah come on, now
return my poem to me
You have stolen her heart
as you hold her captive
at your holy feet.
A simple rhyme is all she is
what would the Lord of the universe
want from a frail poem like she?
A bird, a flower, a river, a tree
Your poem can be whoever
You will it to be
You are her song
now please, will you return mine to me.