Broken, but ...

I'm tired, tired of resting, so used to stillness that I can do nothing else

The thought is much too far for me to grasp, too great for me to see with these dull, cloudy eyes

Eyes that have wandered so far and sank so deep.

Can these eyes behold Truth and be made pure?

Can my hands, the same hands that have sat idle and worked for nothing, grasping for wind

Can hands so wretched carry the image of the Sacred?

It seems nothing short of impossible

Can a mind so twisted carry the wisdom of the Divine?

It is highly doubtable.

Can a heart so frail, so impressionable and so burdened by nothing

Can this heart become a heart worthy to bear, to lead, to teach, to love and serve?

Completely illogical.

The very hands of a murderer - can they heal?

The very eyes of an adulterer - cleave to purity?

The very tongue of a deceiver - speak only truth?

The very heart of wickedness - flow forth love?

The very mind of an utter fool - be wiser than any sage?

Every answer is no, every road a dead end. - without You.

Thus.. I walk heavy on this delicate ground. Recklessly throwing myself when ignorance abounds.

But ... Your power is perfected in weakness.

Thus..

Hope remains.

There is something more at work here - Something greater than I can understand. Something that is different than everything else.

Unbound and unmastered by anything else.

Unchained and uncaptured by anyone else.

The slightest glimpse of whom is a complete eclipse.

The tiniest understanding a total revelation.

The faintest glimmer a blinding flash.

The softest touch a wrenching conflagration.

The quietest sound a deafening blast.

The smallest taste of whom will erase the desire for anything else.

Nothing compares.

We need a taste,

a glimpse,

an embrace,

we need to see and are dying to know -

that the path is narrow,

but the burden light. The burden is light.

Our (my) only hope: To die, and be created again.

From joint to marrow, in spirit and soul.

To be made nothing, to be made whole.

Unmade. Undone.

Remade. Reformed.

To taste of the thing so sweet, so pure

that nothing else has any allure.