I Mustn't Allow Myself To Become Bitter Poem by Mark Heathcote

His love isn't a whim,
Whereas others they're storytellers
Whom I've found no kith or kin
Willing to forgive my errors
But God is said to forgive all sins
He holds no stall with oppressors
His heart is an ocean of eternal hymns.

Oh, I've apologised profusely.
But some people bulwark their defences
And aim their riffles obtusely,
I accept these are the consequences.
I must safely navigate this lifebuoy,
In a vessel with lots of imperfections
Lord, I must be fair and astute,

Astutely understanding and forgiving
I mustn't allow myself to become bitter.
Lord, I must give without minimising.
What good is wealth if it has no redeeming elixir?
Who are you kidding?
Only-yourself-so please reconsider
And value your soul above all else now or pre-existing.

His love isn't a whim,
He holds no stall with bullies.
He doesn't care for hooligans or blasphemes.
Yet, his door is always open to creepy crawlies.
No, he doesn't sit on high and condemn
He only guides your unanswered prayers.
It's for you to shape and say that final thankful amen.