You are things I can’t imagine
Too amazing for me to know
Sow
Reap
Digging ever Deep
Is your touch
Bringing the nothing out of me
And putting yourself into me
Pleasant Giver
Deliverance
Existence
And preoccupied
Lifestyle
All compiled in this young one
To call me son
You are too amazing for me to know
You’ve founded your own; God
The earth is yours
Everything
To show your power
Establishing in the wind and waves
Your force
Is movement
You put everything
Everything into existence
Making it shine
We are a glow light
That can’t try to be a bright
As a dimed new moon night
And yet in you
I’m bright white
Cover sum,
Clothing
My coat
Has many colors
That can be seen by many others
And some only by you
My choice having to bring out and blend
My choices to send
The consequences you make that mend
Into my rights and wrongs
Whether colors show,
And what and how they go
You are not far from me
Indeed it’s not even that you’re coming
Even though your Son is coming
And to heavenly gates I come running
My coat
Has many colors
Drenched in the experiences I’ve made
Tailored to fit my form you gave
I might be bright
But I wear this coat
That’s why I’m in humility
And in myself nothing to gloat
I mix and match
Take paint and markers
And if something severe happens
I even pick up a new patch
Not by my own choice to wear the coat itself
I’m stuck in this life
No backing out
But it’s my choice how it looks
Does it look
Loving?
Like memories of giving and thanks
Or is it blooded, blotched?
Like sin and nothing anyone wants to see
But I’d dare
Dare say
That many of the same disease
Capsize in the deadliest of seas
Choosing to wear their own dreadful snare
Truthfully
Spirit willing
Do you find wearing flesh
So fulfilling
Or is it your hopes and purpose
That it’s killing
I’m meant to live for so much more
Different colors I was made for
Do I brand in hand
Mark myself to carry my sins
In this land?
Or to your goals
Can my fears be fanned?
Where you, Lord,
Are all of my plans
Please
Draw all over me
Color me
Not petite and meekly
But boldly
Mold me
Place these bloodied burdens
Unto my bludgeoned shoulders
As I find myself getting older
May my testimony be that
Of a crammed folder
Cause I’d rather carry a bloodied cross
Than to consider this coat as loss
Who, what, and how do I let people think of my God?
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