The final round

Of editing

Feels like

That sprint

When your lungs burn

And your legs wobble

And you can see the finish line,

But are gasping for hope and energy.


To undo

What took so long to do

Seems counterproductive.


In fact,

Such editing

Adds a patina

Of possibility

That was lost

In the plethora

Of prose.


Ah, Lord,

You, too,

Edit me.

You fix typos

And point out



You invite me to more

By becoming less.


Edit away, Lord,

That I might be

A fine story

For Your glory.


© Lane Arnold



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