That You, By Myself, Be Always Worshiped. Poem by RIC BASTASA

I might be unfair
if i say
that God has been deaf
to all my pleas.

For last night and in the
last crucial seven days of my life
he saved me from the harms
that my self could have
inflicted upon itself: those sleepless eyes
the tumults inside the mind,
the uprising of the acids
inside my intestines
the whirling of the thoughts
the storms of the past
the tornadoes of hasty judgments
and all those sorts for which if you try looking at it from
a distance
you definitely have lost control of.

There was that Hand that keeps on guiding
and holding and caressing
even in my sleep even if i do not remember anymore
what happened.

There was that breath that was not mine anymore.
That soothing that came from without
That comfort which i do not know from where
Which i guess, i may call now as
Heaven.

Whatever i am, and wherever I'd been
This early morning, i bow before you Oh Lord

Thank you Very Much. Thy name be forever Praised.
That you, by myself, be always worshiped.