Poetry

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My desire against the Spirit
   is breaking my only heart.
Drawn to the flame, this moth is near it;
   without her I'm falling apart.
 
I only stand against this desire
   for the Lord's good pleasure.
Yet it haunts me, this rapturous fire,
   seeming of infinite measure.
 
Keep me, Dear God, in the midst of this flame,
   let this heat temper me.
Make me conform to Your Son's Name;
   only there can I be free.
 
You are the One I can't live without;
   all I need is Your will.
Bring me through this passionate drought;
   I am here keeping still.
 
Grant Your desire against this flesh,
   though my heart be broken.
In Your word I am refreshed;
   alive when You have spoken.
 
Let me not have what I want,
   but only if You please.
My filter, Your will I choose to flaunt;
   it is the Source of my ease.
 
And if it's Your will, my falling apart,
   then gather up my remains.
Take what is pleasing: my broken heart;
   it's broken and calling Your Name.
 
© 8-2-2012

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