I spoke to God long ago.
I asked that I would learn the truth
and share it with others.
I wanted the truth to be my gift
like flowers or a basketball or a hat.
But my prayer was defective,
the prayer of an innocent child
who made the assumption that
a gift of truth would be well-received.
It was not received at all,
as though I threw diamonds out my window
and they were ground to dust by the traffic.
And the wind blew the dust away.
My prayer was answered, but my prayer was flawed.
I left out the part about people receiving my truth.
The letter of my prayer was fulfilled:
I shared, me the giver.
But few if any received.
Why would they?
You cannot give the truth to those who are
already certain they have more than they want.
Like offering pig shit to Iowa,
a truth so precious to me turned out
to have no market value.
It's okay, not a total loss if you learn from your mistake.
Like I learned how not to pray.
There's still a chance I could give something of value:
When you pray, be precise, and be complete.
Don't leave out the slightest detail.
God supervises a cold universe,
cannot resist an opportunity to teach the wise
John T. Manimas, April 2021
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