The Words I Write

They say the pen is mightier than the sword

(Though whose pen can be mightier than yours, oh Lord?)

So with fingers blessed by You, this pen in my hand I hold

Yet not a single inspiration from my mind comes to word

Thoughts clutter my mind and crowd my head

Begging to be writ so that they may be read

But written out on paper, to me they seem dead

Where is the sincerity that to these thoughts lead?

Are my words to please You, Oh Greatest One?

Or are they merely a source of hobby and fun?

When I write that You are brighter than any sun

Is my heart really alive or only my fingers that run?

The words of the elders are with so much effect

Why must I waste time when with them I can reflect

But such is my nafs that it continues to interject

And so succumb I to the pen, once more, unchecked

Oh Lord, change my tone from hubris to meek

For without You, the truth is, I am very weak

Youth until old age when bones will begin to creak

Let only Your pleasure be what I truly seek