Something about writing terrifies.
What is deep in heart can’t help but to
Spring up forth and my God glorify.
Yet there’s always a chance, isn’t there
That what words do come out from the depths
Do not glorify, but rather make
Such a smooth lukewarm and then regrets?
What if the words twist the truth? It is
Very likely, is it not, my friend?
Then if a seed of lies falls into
Their minds, how, then, will I make amend?