Are My Arms Too Short to Box With God?


He is our teacher;
We sit in a classroom.
In the beginning, we’re at His feet.
If we eat of knowledge,
    can we become like him – a great nation?

        I plowed a field but fear to trod:
        Are my arms too short to box with God?

We graduate.

He is our teacher;
We sit in a classroom
Like a potter with a vessel,
    we’re molded but gradually freed from his supremacy.
        Our fingers search His.

        I plowed a field but fear to trod:
        Are my arms too short to box with God?

We graduate.

He is our teacher;
We sit in a classroom.
Can we become Him
        or…
    will we be expelled?
            Our hands clasp.

We graduate.

    My thinking can be rather odd,
            I ponder…

Are my arms just t-o-o-o short to box with God?