Walking, in faith
with you, as you
pour blessing
upon blessing.
Images once
seen, brought
into being-
daily.

My barren, dry
soul, a distant
memory.

Yet, with
each blessing.
Each impossible
possibility
emerging,
I am not,
surprised.

You tell me,
I am faithful,
I am loyal.
You are,
well pleased.
This, is
your desire.

However,
I just can’t
help,
feeling
guilty.