The Giver of all

The Giver of all
 
He gives me the images and their descriptions.
This is why I’m still here, I suppose, so late in life
 
though the poetry is riddled with my ignorance,
at times belabored and imperfect,
 
yet its construction is the task
set before me and I treasure it. 
 
It is my communion.  I’ve learned, by the way,
that ignorance veils the mind,
 
but leaves the heart untouched.  These words,
of utmost importance, are light as a feather,
 
brief as a sigh, like ink soaking into paper,
like the fleeting import of a cricket’s twitter.
 
He gives me the images and the words
and lets me use this intimacy
 
to feel His presence, His warmth,
to burrow a little deeper into the Mystery.
 
O child of God, is there anything as precious
as an undeserved gift from the Giver of all?