trigger warning: gore
The harrowing feeling
Of hating who you're becoming
Slipping into the arms of death, that feeling
Not fitting for the saints of Christ
I am no longer willing
To accept life as it is
One way or another
I commit to being torn from the grave
Layer upon layer we descend
And upon doing so I rise
Let me once again feel the tears in my eyes
Holy, holy, holy is the Lamb
I've pledged to break free
By piling on my shackles
And sending away the Minister
I heard His message
And my heart agreed
So I did the opposite
And I am in grief
Let us return
Like I have had to so many times before
And may I follow You
For You are the Way to life
Just one twist
The festering seed of evil
Bears the thorn bush
The child of wickedness
That wraps around new life
And buries it into the ground
Forgive me Father
I have been careless
I have been neither wise nor innocent
Neither serpent nor dove
Rather I have taken the mantle of sloth
My face stretches into horror as the tsunami comes
The lack of yoke invites an unimaginably heavy one
I surrender my life
I invite Your command
Lord guide me with Your hand
Write my story
May I follow the flame
The new light, the goodness birthed
By every stroke of Your pen
I thank You that in every moment
You have seen me
That not one step has escaped Your gaze
I only wish that more often
You looked upon a burning heart for You
At each moment
I look back and see Providence
That you are doing a good work
Not wrought by myself
But solely by Your grace
Truthfully
I'd rather be Jonah than Lot
I'd rather be Samson than Saul
I'd rather build the Kingdom in spite of myself
Than live a life without having laid a brick
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty
Worthy is the Lamb, Worthy is the Lamb
Amen
My legs cut from beneath me
Blood drips from my maw
Yet with every inch I crawl
Becoming who we are
At times I see myself a monster
A failure, untrustworthy
A saw-toothed trap
Reacting at the slightest scent of death
And consuming it
Yet all the same lacking in ferocity
Screaming at every glimpse of light
And slinking away when the blade of truth
Sinks into the first layer of my skin
So perhaps a vulture
A beast of the field
With a propensity for corpses
I don't understand why the Lord would desire me
I don't see what part of who I am could build up
What the core of me could do for the Kingdom
But if the Kingdom of God needs a vulture
There is no other nest to which I would flock