The Prophet

I am His prophet

Truth-teller

Never forgetting

Whose I am,

Eschewing all

That keeps me from

The joy

Of that knowing.

For all my days

I never knew

Such cauldrons burned below

In me.

Or that I had a mind so sharp

That I could make

Truth known.

I lived in fear

Peering out

From my self-made prison.

Doubting any talent

Any ken

And waiting to be damned.

Now, I know

I am a channel sure

For others of His blessing,

Changing every second

With His mind and bidding.

Born upon the flowing,

Effortless, at ease.

No need to row against a current

Or even steer.