bring me low,
that my eyes may always look high
and remember that it is the Sun that provides for all things on earth,
in all our tumblings and failings and fallings,
You don’t flinch,
always burning.
even as we try to shield our eyes,
You are who you are,
there is no hiding, and no need.
my refuge is You,
i am safe,
no need to run,
no need to hide,
in You there is hope.
bring me low,
that my eyes may always look high.
no praise of man, or sugared words
no hero’s death, or talents learned,
a little here, a little there
take charge O God, and strip me bare!
no good thing i need,
or pleasure seek
outside of You,
Your Word stands true.
no woman in what shape and form,
can replace Your love’s warmth
You alone can satisfy.
let me remember,
take heart, do not deny!
the greatness of the joy on High.
God You are working, always working.
You sat me down by the well and offered me eternity, in exchange for my little everything.
yes, yes, from now on,
always yes.
A lot has changed in the past 2 years. my weight, my height, situations, circumstances, IC colour – yet above all these things, God remains.
I came into BMT with the hope and expectation of becoming an officer; an injury set my IPPT score back, and I was assigned to become an MP.
I was frustrated and angry, but You were faithful and had blessed me in a way I could not yet see.
I went into MP doubtful and afraid, yet by Your grace I excelled. Man did not recognise me, but You did.
I was disappointed, but still Your grace proved enough for me – it always must be.
i went into MWDU optimistic and hopeful, yet through the 1.5 years i have grown weary, angry, tired, beaten – how many times have i fallen since then?
yet You were always there for me, You alone have guided me through the night.
a lot has changed in the past 2 years,
but not You.
and looking forward now, i am ever more grateful that it is so.
thank You for being You, faithful to the end.
thank You.
You call me home each and every day. Sometime I hear, sometimes I don’t, but Your voice is loud all the same. thank You for opening my ears and heart tonight.
thank You for loving me, despite me.
nothing good can grow in the wasteland
where weeds have choked the sky,
stretching out to forge a lie
that yes, upon sand,
upon my own plans,
i can fly.
nothing good can grow in the wasteland,
too far i have tilled, only to look at
ashes left behind.
the brushes i paint with
are strokes of coal
that leave chaos behind.
nothing good can grow in the wasteland,
i water with poison,
yet reap with eager hunger.
though my fruits they kill me,
i would rather my breath become air
than have it give more life to this death.
nothing good can grow in the wasteland,
unless You say it can.
let the clay remain with my Potter
be still! greedy hands you fidget in vain.
the Water Forever has come to bring
life, a song of Love He sings,
be still, eager one;
only in His hands,
can something good grow out of this wasteland.
is it me,
or everything i’ve thought to be.
we are fragments
welded shut,
savaged by the sun,
or the light that shines from their eyes.
is it me.
are there pieces to replace,
or simply give away.
gentle sighs,
hugs from behind,
nostalgic sights
we find each other
in the night
at wooden benches
parked between
a natural dark,
artificial lights.
i can only see
2 feet in front
can you see me?
though my steps
are calm,
cold and clean.
i mopped the floor
not long that night
the soap stains sting
don’t get them in your eye.
i was blind,
i am fine, fine, fine
whine, wine, dine, cry
why.
no more
question marks for me,
you’ve brought enough
crazy
too many memories
not you or me,
but she.
me and she.
she could be anybody.
perhaps my mind is a maze
and like mapless pilgrims
we strive to nothing.
every turn is a waste
every step is in haste –
leave this place.
perhaps my mind is a page
where the ink has leaked.
seeping through it stains my soul,
cracked and weary,
wrapped around a stone –
you can see the creases of my bones.
perhaps is mind is merely gone
and the people left know its place.
but they keep quiet,
let him journey on
he needs to find it on his own –
don’t.
butwhoeverdrinks 