Paradoxical
Pray down on bloody knees and free
Sitters and sinners under stalwart tree
Oaken, ashen, burnt to the ground
Its roots twisted and spun around
Free in expression under dark soils
In light grim and suicidal it boils
Over the edge into a pit of snakes
It has taken a toll on me, high-stakes
The gamble, the paradoxical mystery
Of life in or out, inside and blistering
In darkness, give me back to the light
Salvation gleams in the distance, right?
Cut the cord, cut to the very core
King of kings and father bore me
Barren like fruit with no sweet
I am going back, shameless in defeat
Tired, but not broken I stand before him
Wash me father, cleanse me in crimson
I've a question to ask in reverence
Please give me a second to deliver it
Is it not true that we are modeled after you?
Spiritually, physically, mentally is it true?
Then imperfections there must not be
For this paradox to have created me!
The answer not currently comprehensible
I await the time when I am more sensible
Sea, awakened by the dark, the light
Is more craved and needed from fright
Only if you forgive me this blind questioning
It was a beggars chance, and festering
On my soul for so very long
God you still beat in my heart, so very strong.
Copyright ©
Tim B | Year Posted 2012
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