Poetry

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I am raging in my skin;
   burning, thus, to bitterness.
Wrought of work of old sin,
   of those things that wreak of flesh.

I've been flayed by my desire,
   things I've wanted for my heart.
A man burned, clutching fire;
   it has left me torn apart.

Please let this passion die;
   I'm driven toward a broken dream.
Forward, to Hope, I must fly
   far beyond what is so mean.

Let it die the death of lusts,
   for that is all its worth.
Of broken dreams, broken trusts,
   I wish to end this hopeless search.

All my heart, with its eyes,
   I aim them toward You now.
Hear my calls, with it sighs
   I choose to submit and bow.

I take Your word to comfort me,
   mixing it with the gift of faith.
Obeying this truth I will be free,
   unhindered to run Your race.

© 8-2-2012

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