All prayers rise heavenward in a rush:
God gathers them with a mighty pull,
And spreads them across the table of heaven,
Which, though laden, is never quite full.
He addresses them with meticulous care,
Though he knew of them in advance,
Each leaf falls according to His plan,
Though it may appear to us mere chance.
All prayers sparkle brilliantly against
The backdrop of the divine abode:
Diamond shaped tears, glistening
Star like questions, sighs of solid gold…
He answers them with boundless love
From His trove of providence so kind,
So that we see at last His wisdom
Supreme, the genius of infinite mind.
All prayers answered in His good time,
Belatedly to we of limited vision,
Perhaps not in the way we anticipated,
But always according to His perfect provision.