I think too much.
My wonder causes me to wander to rocky, unsettled paths
where questions grow like weeds,
poking holes in my confidence,
crowding out joy.
I stink too much.
This old, carnal rag I drag around,
attached to my will by threads of world,
holds me back and blinds weary eyes to what is
I sink too much.
This seeking first and worrying not
is swallowed up by circumstance,
and my energy is spent struggling for air in dark deep,
till I remember . . .
grace is enough;
death will be swallowed up;
flesh will be made new;
and every darkness even now is overshadowed by unfailing Love.
Open my eyes.