progressing regression

disorder of my past
hewn into my present
i spoke it's name,
all eyes on me
they assume i'm healed
i'm not

i pledged my life to a fathered vision
one i thought my own, but now i question
has it been my pride to volunteer succession
so the road ahead is clear?

i hold thick questions
and they smother my words
as they sit like sponges on my tongue

i thought I knew myself better,
just a year ago
thought i knew my future,
now i'm not so sure
and a heart that's stronger also feels much harder
like new leather, i'm trying to break it in

growing younger
it's clarity i seek
i'm under cloud cover
and it's mist that my fists beat
as i stagger towards a vision
that's tunneled to one end

Oh blessed seed of Zion
replace my will with Yours

if i am weak in my sickness
and You desire weakness
then i'll gladly be sick until You come

Here, my King
I've burned my dreams
and this remains

this is the gold

I need no other
I need no other
though i'm ill
though i'm ill
I need no other
though I know not my future
and doubt my vision
I follow You alone

the seventy-seventh time

I can't bear to see Your face

I traipsed around the tempting pit
wondering of the fun I'd missed
and fell face first into the hole
from leaning in too far--and this, for the seventy-seventh time

Only a memory, now
white is death of black to me--white's a shade I can't recall
I know the depth of my damnation and the wretched nights I spend
wondering why I took one step too far
in the wrong direction

I am dirt to the prodigals
an exploiter of mercy and swindler of grace
my soul is char
my heart is bare
and sin's burned through my skin

I'm sure that this will be the end
Pride has a death-grip 'round my throat
and I can't even cry for help
though my being screams within
I'm in too deep
I'm in too deep--for the seventy-seventh time

then a whisper like a memory
like a memory, but ageless
and through the blackening of my sight
I see a sword slash through my pride
and strength gives out, at last

Awakened as if from a dream
to a warmth of pulsing grace
"I'll never let you from my gaze or cease to make you clean."

And now my dress is white again
whiter than it's ever been
You've bleached me
with Your love

for the seventy-seventh time.

this again

pursuer crouched
in the shadow of my seat--
the floor-board of my locked car
the presence mirroring my every step
inches behind
yet dissolving before discovered
the anticipation of hands that grab me
before a door is closed and keyed
dreams that freeze me to my bed
at 4 AM
and chill me through the day
was I freed only to be conquered?
or does this allegiance lie in shadowy corners
if obedience is love and love casts out fear
then temptation and flesh have shackled my zeal
this dilapidated heart
and two sides that know it's darkness
give me grace
there's no more will to fight
see my love--weak though it may be--
and let me stand
in this sifting

six

A jog before some egg-yolk sun is

cracked across the sky

breathing even with the drumming of my Asics

velvet morning drape still hanging thick on our globe

the moisture grips to my face and lungs

it will rain

it must

my chest swollen with this joy

I puff out metered whispers

and You answer with stillness in my heart

temptations cannot touch the hour of six-'o-clock

this is our time of simplicity

and You make my way sure

every step