Almighty God,
please
give me the wisdom
to know that I am not wise.
I tend to slip that mask on,
thinking it a clever guise.
But I am typical of the youngest,
and though I crow and jest,
my insecurities show through,
even through my best.
Can I give myself as a canvas?
Would you take the brush?
I believed I was so artful,
but my colors were muddied
and rushed.
I’d rather the master
paint me,
and Your signature on me be found.
Your name will then be spoken,
and I will delight in the sound.

© Joel Tipple