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.