I do not serve a blind God. Your eyes are wide open,
Always searching, forever seeing, eternally knowing.
Ever present, You watched my fight,
Witnessed as I succumbed to the cold, harsh blow,
Making me give up on winning this battle inside.
I ran. I fled. I wallowed in darkness,
Away from You. Away from the light.
I licked my wounds like a beast damned for eternity,
Shameful, lamentable, lonesome, wretched, ravenous beast,
A stark contrast to the blissful glory of life in Your hands.
I made the world my momentary tourniquet,
Bundled myself in its controlling, murderous grasp,
Reveling in the numbness and pressure,
Living out the illusion that I could last without my Source of Life.
Living without my Source of Life. Damnable fool I was.
But I do not serve a blind God. Your eyes are wide open.
You saw the struggle. You saw the fall.
You saw the aching, bleeding heart
That rejected this world as its momentary tourniquet.
And in Your gentle, healing way, You tore this heart away.
Bleeding apart from the useless rags I thought would heal,
I once again look unto Your Light.
Though the pain remains and the blood flows,
I do not serve a blind God. Your eyes are wide open.
Your light is the One Healing Tourniquet that will bring me back to life.