Not A Man

Caked in soot, engulfed in dirt
I am not a man. I am a worm.
The thunder storms and heavy rains
and I gasp for air crawling to the surface.
I try to save myself;
But there I drown. There I die. There I wait
for a raven to find me. To eat me. To grind me
in its crop.

But stop.

I am not a worm. I am a paradox.
For the good that I adore that I want to do I do not do.
The evil I abhor is what I do.
Over and over. More and more. Like a revolving door.
Like a dog to his vomit, returning and licking his sores.
But a dog is loyal to his Master to the end.
I am prone to stray. I chase a rabbit, lose my way,
I’m lost.

I’m tossed.

I am not a dog. I am a rag.
Greased in sin, in foul thoughts. In selfish thoughts. A filthy cloth.
I am broken and dirty. And I am clean!
I am clean!
I am dirty and I am clean. A paradox, if ever seen
Simul Justus et peccator. Same time saint and same time sinner.
By the blood of Yeshua I am washed and I am clean.

I am not a worm. I am a man.
A righteous man. A saintly man. Blessed by I AM.
I am a man. Amen? Amen.