One of us has an anxious need
to know and to keep life in order.
One of us has a distorted view of sufficiency
and a daily resistance to wounded living.
One of us has a drive to be and do more, and
a combative approach to surrender and sabbath.
One of us has a god-complex, O God
. . . and one of us is actually God.
Here I am, to lay down my god-complex
in this pile of ashes and grace.