in nothingness, even I can glorify,
my Holy Savior, the Perfect One.
Inconsistent logic, a contradiction,
says the world. But a crucifixion
makes me like the Perfect One.
That death so filthy and scandalous
is making me blameless and righteous,
all thanks to the Perfect One.
In this life, I won't see, I know,
my heart melted completely like snow,
but one day I'll see the Perfect One.
And then, oh best of days, I'll be
pure like Him. I, hell-bound me,
will be like the Perfect One.
I'll still be nothing, only one called,
except to the Man who paid it all,
to my Redeemer, the Perfect One.
To Him, I'm beautiful, precious, worthy,
no longer a slave to sin so urging.
One day I'll be like the Perfect One.
Another poem... This one isn't as recent as The Dance, but I re-discovered the document I wrote it on. So, here it is for your enjoyment! :)
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