Photo by Gabriel Jimenez on Unsplash
I write like I dance,
My arms wide open-in a trance.
I now seek Your will be done,
Mine? Too much I have found,
To be empty, uninspired, and dead.
Yours, the kingship, the true head
Will be my lighted flame,
And no more will I blame
For Your hand I do hold,
Shedding all of the old.
As I rest my eyes upon you,
Wiping my heart free of the dew
Settling in the depths of my soul
Growing colder as I grow old.
Because my eyes and spirit dimmed
While coveting my whims,
Leaving me shivering in the cold
So to you, I give my spirit old.
For your eyes see,
What mine never will.
Your heart forever beats,
When mine sits still.
Your hand opens and extends,
The moment my grasp ends.
Your love gives and empowers,
Where mine hides and cowers.
And your words give eternal life,
Where mine speak only of strife.
You are perfect and just-
Creating me from dust.
So to you, Jesus, I ask,
Make me new, so I can dance,
Live, and write for You
To glorify my Lord,
Who wiped away the dew.