In The Marketplace Of Words

In the marketplace of words,
I am but a poor man
with only a humans intellect
who affords not the slightest word
as to bring about a well articulated description of my Father's love.

I've written countless epistles
In attempt to remedy "I" from myself,
they've all like fleeting words saved me not, but slowly brought me to my one true love.

With all poetic skill, from diamonds & pearls
The fine jewel in the marketplace of words
that is ever engraved in the shimmering of the sun
I have all this at my disposal

Yet fail to leave no stone unturned in my attempt to tell of His love.
Even if my hand was to be aided by angels
I would fail dismally.

is He not great? enigmatic perhaps,
even the greatest thinkers of old
could not exhaust this kind of love.

By: Shane. M