should be writing programs

December 12, 2008

With every stroke, you chisel in my heart,
unruly and rebellious it may be,
you heal the pains and carve into the scars
yet deeper still, for you’re not done with me

The clanging of the nails do not but tell
the coming with inevitability
that I’m to die completely to myself
in so to  share with you eternity

But fear of death, the worries of this life
the waves of doubt, and wanting to be king
directs my heart from joy and into strife
unwarranted complaints to you i bring

Oh call me, for I’m stumbling in the dark
Direct me once again to where you are!



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