I am no saint.

Instead,
lately,
I’ve been nurturing
a budding intolerance for
guilt.

Heavens howling hound,

knowing

sin

shreds the silken fabric
draping heavens throne,
wounds his Masters
hopeful, Holy heart,

(yet is so human an option,)

dug the hole,
planted the seed in my soul,
certain,
the forgiving Father,
offering His loving-kindness,

waits
to nurture the seedling,

but,

He,

never the pushy bully,
ever the unobtrusive gentleman,

knows,

all sinners need to do

is

ask.

.