Writers should say, “What if?” not, “I know,”
With humble steps, both firm and slow.
They walk with God through day and night,
Trusting questions that will lead to the light.
Assumptions slam the learning door,
But speculation asks to know more.
It tests thoughts and weighs their claim,
To see if truth or pride is to blame.
Like panning streams for grains of gold,
Or fishing tales that have yet to be told,
The hours pass, and the nets come back—
Sometimes empty, sometimes packed.
The world shouts answers dressed as wise,
With convincing words in clever disguise.
But Spirit-sight must guide what we write,
To sort what’s false from what’s right.
When truth appears, we pause, give thanks,
Yet questions form in deeper ranks.
For God still says, “Come seek, come see—
With me, there’s more than seems to be.”
