Immodest child,

Immoderate man,

You think to slay dragons,

By wit and prowess,

Armed with nature’s sword.

You think it cruel

And mean-spirited,

That the good God

Choose to temper you,

By merciful humiliation.

He thwarts your inventions,

And plans of glory.

“All for God” you dream,

Yet, you are at the center,

With your indiscreet crosses,

Your self-chosen penance.

Immature man,

Undone by impatience,

Intemperance,

And swollen pride.

Each day God waits

Supplies the Way,

Plans a day

Filled to the brim

With humility’s simplicity,

Yielded abandonment,

Acceptance,

The bow and arrows of God,

To strike the heart

Of a soul,

Marked by God

For Love.

Joann Nelander