Him

I'm not really in the mood for poetry today. And that's rare. But I just feel like talking.

What are we all doing? What am I doing? Most of the time I keep quiet in (false) humility but today I talked. I talked and now I just cried. Why am I crying? I know that the words I said weren't completely sincere. I know I was a hypocrite. But I'm not in  despair, no. Not like before. I know He still loves me. In my weakness. In this rawness that He craves.

He wounds me but He finally penetrates.
I will be joyfully wounded.

Honestly, I actually sort of believe that I'll truly be happy. God help me.

Look at Him. Don't look at me. Gaze into His fiery eyes. He won't be denied. Let's let Him wound us, let Him touch us. Let Him move us. God, move us.

We are desperate.