Sunday, August 9, 2009


In the curve of your chin
The curl of your lip
In the arch of your brow
And in the defiant hair
That refuses to submit to your will
I see a beauty I cannot attain to
Looking down upon my shaky clumsy hands
I see the stains of blood I’ve shed and cannot justify
I see I am but a man
Weak and blind
Made to return to dust
But in your eyes I see hope
I see in the dust and ashes
These dry bones can live
In your tiny hands I see strength

Who am I that thou art mindful
Is it for me so week and sinful

But if it is for me
I will accept this
In the faith that the weak will be strong
The blind will see
And though I die I shall live
And if I live I shall not die
Love will perfect me and cover my sin
And maybe a portion of the love shown me
Will return to you

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