To Him we are but a
match strike in the
vast dark, a flare
that shines and sputters
out into the void

before I look at you,
I must see through the
self filth that clings
to this body and realize
the pole in my eye,
the constant sewage in
this heart and know I am
forever rotten to the core
except I am clean when
I accept His righteousness,
His "whiter than snow"

drift out of me
troublesome matter
and leave me behind
in the chaos you wreak
in every life you touch

We are chained
cell by cell, and I cannot
escape you except in the Blood
of Another

He is a man
in full exaltation,
lifting up flesh
and blood in
daily praise
to His Creator,
Redeemer

Bows in body
and spirit to
none but Him
who knew
the man before
he began to
call on His name

You are the poetry on my lips
the breath within these lungs
and the fire within this soul

To each day these bones
glorify the magnificence
of Your all abounding
yet at times, mystifying
Love, and death to
me so I might live
and lay claim
to this foolishness
the world will
never know...

Two warring factions -
anchored to these bones
sunken within this flesh,
fight and win, if momentarily,
moments where each
reigns within the throne of self

And I, but the vehicle of those
scenes must play the chooser
and crown what victor
may sit and rule this
kingdom of veins,
blood and bones.

I am lulled into a cadence of history
that is slowly crescendoing in my veins,
and seeping out of my fingers onto buttons
into blue electric waves,
kept away in the folds
of metalic grooves,
that sits within a frame
of an already progressing
crescendo.

To hope and to know
there is nothing within
that hope but to be led
to a greater Hope, and
rest easy in that...

We are incredibly
broken people,
wheeling through black space
in fragmented pieces
as the Son glimmers off
shiny, dull, sharp, and blunted
ends that mingle at times in this
course through the comsos