That night I prayed for a nod from God
in the darkened church by the school yard,

I was a child.

When I saw shadows shift and the dark walls shake
as the bright light flashed and the angels sang,

I was a saint.

But on that same night I reasoned with fright
and reached the clear decision: it was a car collision,

I was a man.

Now I wonder what will happen on the day I am to die,
my breathing ending with one long sigh?
Will that childs faith return?
Will Grace redeem that moment past
when I exchanged God for reason
So I might touch Him
at last?