To, God

Merciful you are, as they say.
For they crave your presence each day...
Many names you have, with titles of the highest order.
The languages you have not made, they still have your name and definition per se...
I am alien to you except that in my belief.
Never saw you, heard you, felt you.
They say, whatever happens is all part of your plan...
Perhaps that is truth, or maybe it was hearsay...
For if you are all mighty and can succeed in every way,
why are all the stones pelting on my way...
After each fall, I look for a hand to pick me up...
Have fallen so many times, I have learnt to pick myself up...
For now I no longer need anyone, and need no one else to stay...
Perhaps this is your lesson that to this day, to you, I no longer pray.