Father Creator,

Climbing a mountain
With lame feet
Means being left behind,
Stumbling, tumbling in defeat
Down the plane, over stones,
Beginning again incomplete
Alone and bruised.

Reaching for heaven
Lifts the aim of my pursuit
Above the jagged obstacles,
Hazards inflicting jabs acute,
But no jab compares to Your nails:
Bleeding to commute
The sentence of Your enemies.

You had to keep moving.
Your enemies right behind with
Different faces in different places,
In deceit, in false kindness,
And both friends and enemies
Walking in total blindness
To the reality around them.

I am blind, Father,
Touch my eyes, make me see,
The structure of Your design
The power of speaking into eternity
As Your Spirit indwells
Time reducing infinitesimally:
Colliding, dispersing, converting

The golden thread I saw
A quantum entanglement of soul
Sharing properties, transforming,
Fusing with lesser nodes
Rescue, redemption, regeneration
Damaged strains to integrated whole

A great organic debridement
Of Your forever, woven bride,
Burning off what’s disentangled;
You never intended to hide
The complete, amniotic poem of creation
But in our pride
We think in crayon sketches.

Repair my love.

Grow new limbs here:
My faith. My hope. My love.

Let Your desire for me
Be my only sway
The only guiding gravity
Molding my byway:
Remake my ability to move and
Repair my ability to stay.

Where You go, I go.
Where You stay, I stay.