And I, a broken, dirt licking sinner, cannot bring a brim of moisture to my eyelid.
What is wrong with this picture?
What happened to the days when I felt your presence in every move I made? When I could smell you on my breath? When you filled me to the brim? Where did they go?
I spend my life on meaningless idols. I frequent the market of tainted goods. I spit at the foot of the cross that has saved me.
How can I carry a bag so heavy and lay it at your feet? This burden presses down on my shoulders, which press down on my heart, which presses me feet down further and further into the clay.
I will not fear, however. I will not fear bringing everything to you.
I will be broken.
Everyday if necessary.
I will let the river flow. I will let it all flow out, to make room for you to flow in.
I’m so forgetful, but you always remind me, you’re the only one who brings me peace.