Friday Poetry
Who Do I Say You Are?
I've grown used to being held in statistical regard.
Number crunched,
Numbed and crunched.
The democracy of opinion insists,
There is comfort outside the sample.
But I will not be defined by circumstance,
Nor bow to conventional wisdom.
One thing remains unshaken:
One in a million,
One grain of sand,
100% child of God.
3 comments:
Very Romans 8. Echoes of Jesus' question to Peter? Quirky as well.
Wordsworth,
Thanks for noticing!
That's great. Wanna be in my band? :)
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