Lord, I wish to edit

Lord, my lord, was I too intractable

At me meet the wings of choice.

You placed the prospects and conflicts.

Did you allow me, or did you guide my hands?

When long-suffering suits my allotment

You ought to have insisted, “Son, pick a different”

Oh, sorry Lord, I put the cart before the horse.

How did I pick this treaty?

Be the start of anxiety.

Is it by apportioning or my will?

On this side, the trait pulls down or lifts up.

Meaning to know, how I opted,

This, which is judicious, liberal, and gracious,

Yet suffer in sustainability as such.

While I behold, the constraint of conscience,

Grow in mass and reach

Maybe this toil is the root of yet journey.

Otherwise, Lord, I would rather be

The controller general of stupendous wealth,

In this magnificent divide of your bestow

Any which way, Lord, I wish to edit,

Yes, Lord, add fine components,

Say finger of gold

As I delete, near it syndrome

Because I’ve come to realize,

Prosperity is both breezy and healthy.