My kind of prayer

How flowers colour the human
eyes is a mystery my heart
Can’t break.

The bright sky is always pregnant
Every rain is a new born
To us.

The sun is a jolly fellow
Comes to the office happily
Always.

The enemy of the best is
most often what looks good enough
To see.

Far beyond what the eyes can see
There is much more we should expect
From life

Standing or sitting behind closed
door facing the light or knocking
the floor

Words ought to carry more power
But where the heart lies carries
Much more.

Victor Oyedele