untitled poem

I wrote this last april.

Sometimes I think about the color of the soul.
Like the soul is not tangible, I know but,
I think it maybe might just be,
Something you can see.
And if you can see it
It’s blue and yellow I bet.
Not green not a mixture of the two.
It’s both, separated.
I remember the times,
When others would try to blow minds
By being creative,
By writing Christian poetry.
And they’d talk about the S-O-N sunshine,
It didn’t make sense but, I would find the truth
in their scrawled out lines.
I have no rights to say I’m creative,
I’m given this mind to use, not waste it.
I’ve wasted it before
and ended up on the floor
bruised and broken
wheezing and choking
on blood pouring out of my mouth
welling up from my heart.
Lord God, once again give me a new start
find the inadequacies in me
that I won’t let them see.
and throw me in the fire
to burn away life’s living mire.
the impurities in this heart that sit
make me worthless and ill-equipped.
forget the analogy, and
let’s say what this actually.
The sin I put inside of me
has torn myself from Thee.
And my heart feels hot and cold…
…and I wonder why I’m rhyming consistently.
Could it be that I’m enamored
with the God who has hammered
out my dings and nicks
and has made me a new creation
prepared to worship in all situations.