I once had these dreams and aspirations
That were crushed and stomped out by new dreams and aspirations.
That were crushed and stomped out by new dreams and aspirations.
All I could think was,
“What's the point of dreaming if I'm only to out-dream myself?"
“What's the point of dreaming if I'm only to out-dream myself?"
But before I finished dreaming,
I dreamed some bigger thing and forgot those tired, old dreams all together.
I dreamed some bigger thing and forgot those tired, old dreams all together.
Then time went
on and dreams turned to calloused stones
and birthed the doubt that living wasn’t worth the endless effort
and birthed the doubt that living wasn’t worth the endless effort
Yet, despite
my growing faithlessness, I still have hope in saviors;
For I’ve been haunted by these demons and graceless fallen angels
- but there’s an
antonym for everything
so there must be something certain reaching down to drag me out
while all these terrors fight to claim my longing soul - at least I think so.
so there must be something certain reaching down to drag me out
while all these terrors fight to claim my longing soul - at least I think so.
My
knees are bleeding from the rocks and falls
and there’s dirt beneath my fingernails from how I’ve crawled
and clawed through the soil to dig my own deep and early grave.
and there’s dirt beneath my fingernails from how I’ve crawled
and clawed through the soil to dig my own deep and early grave.
But Hell still hasn’t claimed me yet and I’m nobody’s
slave.
So I
stick my hands inside of my chest
to tear out my crying heart and try to nurse it back to life
and wash away the filth to no avail.
to tear out my crying heart and try to nurse it back to life
and wash away the filth to no avail.
I can’t save my falling
self - I can’t do it; I just fail
Still, I
beat against the rocks to try to break the calloused shell;
but nothing works - Instead my hands just start bleeding.
but nothing works - Instead my hands just start bleeding.
I'm in need of something because right now I feel
defeated.
So I
stumble to this churchyard, but find it’s been set fire by the raging flame of
apathy.
No
one cares to rescue me -
for the congregation is too preoccupied with some new social gathering
for the congregation is too preoccupied with some new social gathering
to realize that they’re all just dying together - unaware that their
shelter is burning down.
I stagger
in with my bloody clothes and my iron heart but no one seems to see a problem.
I
scream, “I’ve got these dire needs and I need someone to solve them!”
But
no one has an answer or solution to absolve them
They just hug me and say,
They just hug me and say,
“We’re
praying for you, son. It’s going to be okay.”
Then, instead of washing off my wounds, they condemn my injured faith
and whisper of how far I’ve fallen and sad it is that it’s now a mystery if I’ll be saved
and whisper of how far I’ve fallen and sad it is that it’s now a mystery if I’ll be saved
I
know that answers can be found and heard that mercy never falters.
So I
take what pieces I could salvage from the walls of the church’s ashes and
neglected altars
and tie them together with rope from the flagpole; and use
what’s left of the tattered banner as a sail atop the fragile ship that I
created.
Church and state are integrated as I cast my timid vessel to the arms
of the raging sea.
For
the first time in awhile I believe that I’ll be free again
- or that I’ll at least die
trying to find what my father told me comforts him
Waves
beat hard and the wind batters my tiny ship to pieces.
I scream for help - I scream for Jesus!
I scream for help - I scream for Jesus!
Then, out
of nowhere, this hand grabs firmly to mine and drags me onto this rock
in the middle of the ocean somewhere
in the middle of the ocean somewhere
There’s
still endless commotion everywhere, but I feel at peace despite the violent, vicious storm.
You throw my iron heart to the ocean floor
I
watch it sink and break apart and float back up as something pure and innocent.
You
act as if I’ve never let you down before - and I swear I never will again
Now, when I look back on the shipwrecks, I don’t see hurt - I see survival
I
feared damnation, but revival sparks a flame that recreates the burned down
churches
and builds walls stronger than the tempest’s spiral
Healing comes in stages. Pain hurts and scars can
change us.
My haunts are all on burning pages, but they brought me to whatever shore I’m found today
I’m
stronger for the fractures and no shattered legs can keep me from climbing
all these mountains that I’ll claim.
all these mountains that I’ll claim.
Still, my past is full of sinners and my future’s
filled with error, I’m afraid.
But if
cells can re-create themselves and forests grow from fallen seeds that should
have withered
- then
I have faith in a forgiver.
Even Jesus Christ himself once prayed for saving
"Let this cup please pass from me!" - it won't
"Let this cup please pass from me!" - it won't
- but no one saved the savior so the world could one
day feel the grace of changing.
Falls are part of living and everyone needs
saving.
We're all in need of saving
We're all in need of saving
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