She's the governor, the ruler, the mad designer,
the sundial that counts the trembling hours,
my sovereign granting final legitimacy
to the state and station I've established.
She's who I ought to capitalize, her grace
determines my will, she's the awful sin
that draws the trees and flowers from the earth
toward a trembling cloud pregnant with life.
She's the architect of cities, the author
making fruitful choices, dispensing wrath
and justice at her terribly senseless whim,
remaining mysteriously beyond our reason.
Yet I have a faith that I should not have,
and give thanks for my total depravity.