The process of self and dying

So many promises made by people

who think they know what they mean,

as they attempt to nullify

the beautiful journey of being.

by making assault on the foundational

aspects of what really makes us "be"

and forcing some long, drawn-out narrative

that's somehow meant to cure me.

It's like we've forgotten the novelty

of freedom, and long life, and of

the purposeful pleasure of

being relieved from the

meaningless feelings they shove,

like peddled drugs

synthetic loves

man-made chemical plugs,

true and utter uselessness.

we've replaced the dirt with linoleum

and hung an idol on the cross,

dismantled the meaning of sacrifice,

and now try to justify why we feel lost.

we've looked at the world, we saw God through it

we've intentionally defamed his name,

replacing our worship with television,

our desire for deity with fame.

And as the sins of our souls rot within us

and pour from our mouths like black-tar,

He loves us, still loves us enough to have died

and keep the promises made to our fathers.

How could it be that this love would sustain

a wretched and dying creation?

Unless through His love,

we should find ourselves dying

to the sin that our bodies were formed in.

In a true act of worship,

and deep recompense,

repentance, the turning to light,

we find ourselves planted streams of cool water,

our souls in a land with no night.

By Grace!

By Grace!

By Grace, He loved us, and in so doing

we may turn to Him,

in every desperate hour of need,

we can grow up and die to our sin.

So now that light of love burns brightly

a flame that cures impurity

and acts as a lamp for my feet

on the narrow path that I now walk

to victory.