cross-legged

I want to start off our conversations, with a mere and simple “hi”.

And not lead them off with a “Dear Father” or end them with my cries.

I refuse to only speak to you, when I’m lost or in dire need.

Nor will I only praise your name, after good times comes to me.

I hate to only hear your voice, when you’re warning me from wrong.

Why must all the signs you give, solely caution me from harm?

I love to hear your soughing voice, to sense it’s unique tone.

Or study the letters you wrote to me, to admire their careful strokes.

I approach you not from pride, or for my own selfish gain.

I refuse to reduce you down to a moral map and piggy bank.

Do not be to me, a distant or latent being.

One who only manifests himself, within my wishful thinking.

You are more to me than my fickle thoughts, which echo through these hollow walls.

Is your ability to speak to me, confined through the preached word?

I want something more, than to vicariously feel your presence, amongst the giant herd.

Must you have to send your notes to me, through a little bird?

For once your message comes to me, it’s become so very blurred.

Just this once let my eyes behold, your strong mightn’t frame.

They long to trace around your divinely lit-up face.

Let’s share some common frequencies, and sing a wordless harmony.

It need not follow a rhythm, or reveal a common theme.

May we sit down here cross-legged, and enjoy one another’s company?