Worthy

By Annalaen Walls

who am i to call any of Your works distasteful, insufficient, inadequate?

i must be beautiful, brilliant, though my knowledge is limited perfect, though my imperfections abound i must be worthy. in part because of the time You spent on me, molding me, crafting me before i lay in my mother’s womb. if i were not worth something, would You yearn to commune with me — from the time the sun falls behind the trees to the moment it touches the clouds — if we could?

if i were not worthy, would You crave a relationship with me, one in which nothing separates us; a relationship where there is an unfathomable closeness, a limitless intimacy? would You crave my time? my presence?

would Your thoughts of me know no bounds — a number which exceeds the grains of sand on the most expansive shore of the sea?

yes, i am worth something. i must be worth something, because i am Yours and You — the King of all Kings — are mine