Journal of a Spaced-Out Brain -poetry-

Doha #1

Please forgive me, Lord, if you find these words unworthy,
         To humbly project my thoughts on Your great plan,
Without the gift of knowledge, one can be suspicious,
         While reading the writing of a sinful man.

When my weak vision fails to see Your treasures given,
         sadly, my soul shrivels like fallen spruce cones,
When quarantined by the enemy on every side,
         fear may petrify my flesh, tremble my bones.

If words of the wicked find their way into my heart,
         You've warned me the road to perdition is broad,
When You provide a firm foundation of solid rock,
         I'm tasked to build a church for the one true God.

Because it's a furious fire that charcoals the flesh,
         And returns the bones to the bedrock once more,
Only then will I feel the real power of God's love,
         And know His Holy Spirit's perfect restore.