Sinner's Prayer

It's true, my sins
are countless as fireflies
over the meadow at dawn.
My discipline is like
a candle in the wind.
Wisps of milkweed
blown out to sea,
my prayers...
Nothing takes root
but the Master's love.
Here's the secret:
God has no interest
in your guilt.
Honey overflows the sepulcher.
If you understand this,
what else can you do
but bow to a dung beetle?
Confess to a blade of grass?
Sing to ants and ladybugs,
"Walk on me!"