is there a heart that searches up to You
(yes daily I instinctively give you that)
is there a lifting up of you in my Spirit
You- the one that is true
You- the one that takes it all willingly in
and finds ways to sneak comfort into my insides hourly
even when I can only stand to have my heart broken once a day
and the quota is exceeded
even when I am so weak I brittle up to You
and bleed out my requests daily and paltry up my thanks
throwing you offhanded perfunctories
as if they were somehow significant
this is worship?
how often do I dimple my knees with actual floor friction
how often do I still my overcooked heart
and serve you up something real
how often do I even enter into the anatomy of thanks
deeper than surface
deeper than skin
deeper than the shallow end of the pool
deeper than tossed off words
scrawled onto paper and forgotten
deeper than the paper they’re casually scribbled onto
without a surgery of thanks how does it become real
I should at least ruffle it up
and not let it be so clean and buttoned down
and what do You see in me.
why do you accept my raw and selfish scrawlings
as any worship at all?
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