If these are the words I hate the least of the 10,000 I'll say this week, then this passage is blessed.
Not by divinity or any notable fortune, but by the right to be described as such: the best words I've said this week.
Just as a bowl of fruit, one apple is the best. Countless mangos, oranges, and one molding kiwi remain unabashedly good, not deprecated by the superiority of the apple, but lucky to be in the presence of the one blessed best apple.
So let these words be the best I speak, gilded with metaphor and decorated in euphony, let them be blessed with grandeur!

And if not they be the best, let them rest with the others, the dirt where one day, I'll find my hidden treasure.