The water runs over old food my kids have just thrown away
Grits and soured milk, lucky charms all decay
Yet in this moment after a fast, as the break of it melts in my stomach
I think about the provision of God and the role I get to play in it
I work hard and after go without thanks; my wife need not touch dishes
My boys will know the smell of soup and rotten beef as they come home to their kids wishes.
Yet I can not seem to break the thought that something more significant is here
My hands are wrinkled from water absorption but my heart is about to tear
My sternum burst and the lofty thoughts of God come upon me
God is the provider of all things rest, blood, and cologne
The holy spirit whispers connected concepts of cosmic importance
Like how the dishes that I clean will fuel my children’s bodies to God’s Glory.
