I want to see the rough drafts of your life,
the ones that reside on the floor after missing our casket of waste.
I want to see the erasing, the changed proportions, the skeletal grid.
Cause the resulting finish is beautiful; you’ve mastered a technique.

Maybe I want to feel closer,
with a secret for thine only.
Or maybe I just want that importance,
with trust I would truly come to believe.

It’s only a peak I am viewing.
All else is six feet deep.
But it’s that peak of the iceberg that I love
over the entirety of any other.

I do not know what lies in heaven,
nor what our deaths may bring.
All questions may be revealed,
or grow unanswered in fresh new trees.
But disregarding my faith; despite all your beliefs:

This one I want from you, not omniscient Him