sometimes I pray, He showers me with grace,
yet not so much that I’m no longer free,
along with help, He always gives me space.
God grants support to give my will some spine,
He wants to guide and yet not to control,
He knows the choice, but wants it to be mine,
we both do battle for my fickle soul.
I want what's right, my body drags me back,
it seems to want a life that's all its own,
God's only there to help take up the slack,
He wants the true me, not some godly clone.
God made me real, which means He made me free,
He leaves my fate and choices up to me.
-- by Pete Voelz 2/05
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