“I only desire to be gentle to you and meek, my little squeaky friend.”

(God’s Sonnet by Timothy J. Verret; “it’s how I cope to hope in His Meekness, so I can gently seek you and you gently won’t leave”)

You walk the earth meeking to get your fill.

“If they would just approve of me,” you bleed,

“and need me like I need them.” A meek hill

you climb, but you’re back below guaranteed.

Meek, I am NOT: Love me more than you can.

“Hello? I’m back here in the back row. No?”

They don’t see me, you see? I am deadpan

to their lifespan. I leave when gone; they go.

“God opposes pride; grace to the humble.”

James 4:Six – The meek inherit the prize.

We’re perfectly imperfect; we fumble.

We’re imperfectly perfect; we reach highs.

We don’t elevate ourselves to deceive.

We elevate ourselves so God won’t leave.

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