i am weary.
i am so sick of being weary
and so weary of being sick.

this sin of mine has blocked,
imprisoned,
killed me.

i am alive, but i am dead.
this sin of mine has killed
what makes me
me.

i find i have no clever remarks,
nothing worthy to say. i have been
reduced to an unoriginal, caged
animal.

i do what i hate. i am dying.
O God, save me!
Have mercy on me!
I desire mercy, not sacrifice.
Your words, not mine.

* * *

I find that sin in me is the death of me.
no longer just right and wrong, but a
darkness that will
do whatever it takes to
cover me, to
hide me, to
make me forget
who i am, to make
me just another patch
in a quilt of black.

where is the light?
show me what i am.
whether i am a conformist,
a plagiarist,
another lost soul.
show me how to be me.
to be original, to be who
i was created to be.
show me, that i may
change.

i want to live!
i want to love!
i want to play
my guitar!
whether i am
on key or off!
i want to feel
joy, depression,
loss, and hope.
i want to taste
the Son.
i want to smell
the earth.
i want to touch
the stars.
to see the things
unseen.
to hear and to
understand.
i want to hold, to
be held, to be let
go, to let go.
i want to be.