In the spirit of John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV, I've previously composed other poems (like "Prune Me") in which the narrator takes a more direct approach in praying to God. This one ups the ante. Hope I'm not struck by lightning.
Commanding My God
by Gideon Burton
Be opulent with grace, a gaudy god.
Spread saffron calm so frothy, thickly sweet
that slumber tumbles, yawning to the beat
of surfeit certainties, celestial grog.
Inebriate the heavens with a smog
of milky ways, galactic with relief
in supernova renovation, brief
as parallax precession, twice as broad.
Do not be wholly ghost, be cosmic, grand,
thy Son a fusion furnace boiling sun.
Command these elements to prick and sting;
with blue tsunamis, baptize where I stand;
Send comet clusters down these heaving lungs.
Be subtle as dull winters slapped to Spring.
Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - brighter than sunshine