My heart tears and burns and pulls and rends
When I cling to sin and turn from Him.
Like a child, I push and pull and scream,
But I’m fighting a phantom and myself it seems.
His noiseless, faceless strength is stronger still
Than all my determined will.

In our clash, no pain is so utter, so bittersweet,
As wrestling with Him only to accept defeat.
But more than a grappler, He’s a Heavenly Hound,
Whose caught my scent and tracked me down.
Why do I run from Him and not my pain?

“Because you are a beast that’s lost its way,
And I ask the questions; I have the final say.
Be troubled then take comfort in what I say.
My ways are higher than your earthly ways.”

Posted in Perspective, Poetry