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"HOUSE OF PRAYER (Inspired by a Dream)"

"HOUSE OF PRAYER (Inspired by a Dream)"

In my dream, I was in a group of believers,
The kind in which the leader asked us questions.

I began to give my answer.

Like a leaping frog missing his lily pad,
I stumbled over my words as I tripped on my prayer mat of truth.

My own voice awakened myself from the dream,
As, from dreamland to reality,
I continued to speak out my explanation
Of what I had tried to say in the house of prayer.

In the end, all I could croak out was,
"It sounded more eloquent in my head."

Even, in my dream, my thoughts were more true,
Until I stood up, to answer the question,
With that creepy, insidious, little motive of
Being praised by men.

Sometimes, God sweeps away my house of cards,
My tower of words, my attempt to impress even him.
He is not fond of towers of babble.

Silence is sometimes the most beautiful thing for God to hear,
As we, with nothing to offer, come to him just to be in his presence.
He doesn't need our flowery words.
In the silence, he can still read our hearts.
After all, that is where he has chosen to live,
So, he has no trouble reading the writing on the walls.

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