He's My All

I'm the scrambled letters,
that makes His words.

He's the oh, so wonderful writer,
and I am His story.

I'm the stained jar,
that contains His precious ink.

He's the beautiful pen,
I'm the blank paper he uses.

To me he's everything,
to him I'm nothing.

He's my all, I need him in my life,
There's nothing I could do to repay him.

I owe him more than my life,
my time, my love.

So, the least I can do,
is tell others of what he's done.

I'm His scrambled letter,
He is my all.

December 6th, 2008