who am i?

who am i? 

no one asked the question. no one really wanted to know. it was just me, looking into my own heart, trying to find an answer that was already there. who am i? i must be someone. but i look, and i look, and that beautiful someone appears to fall very short of the person i had envisioned. i am cruel. i am selfish. BE YOURSELF. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.

but myself is so terribly sad. terribly ugly. terribly small. 

i'm not talking about my face. i could care less about my face. it is only freckles and smiles. you see, the older you become (perhaps in spirit, not in years), the more you realize that. it isn't about the face. i'm talking about an ugly soul. a soul that wants nothing more than to be pleased with itself.

who am i?

i am not beautiful. i am crippled.

to the alter. who said that? to the alter. i know it is the Lord. i know His voice. i feel Him. i walk through the forest, evergreen and cold, looking for Him. there is the alter. in my heart. it is still dripping blood from the last time i was here.

my sister is singing in the hall. someday you will die. i want to die now though. i want to kill this soul, made of ugliness and smiles, and i want to change my doctrine. because i was a firm believer in what was beautiful. and i was staunch on the belief that i could become like that, just by willing it to happen. turn your mind around! focus on what is good! mind won't focus. heart won't yield. 

step into the light, you who walks in darkness.

i stumble. it's not pretty at all...more of a gut-wrenching collapse onto a linoleum floor made of memories. so i did not step, but the light was there to receive me, and there He is. i see Him. and He is everything beautiful in spirit...everything i could never be. but still they crucified Him. they could not see it. they were looking at His face. and His face was nothing special. Christ did not follow the be yourself rip. He was not himself. He was God. the world steams, barely noticing their false truths melting into grief behind them. you are extreme. you are living in a dream. you have no compassion 

maybe not.

not for your deceit, not for that grime that clings to the soul like old dirt. not for the lies that have become so ingrained in our minds that we cannot for the life of us rip them out. so then. you'll have to die to be free. yes. i do see that now. i think i'll have to keep dying. over and over and over. though you have not seen Him, you love him; and even though you do not see Him now, you believe in Him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls (1 peter 1:9). 

okay. i go into the heart, but the question is not the same. 

who is He? because that is all that really matters, after all. 

xx

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