Poetry

Modest Dreams
Here I am with empty hands broken to the core
But I prefer this brokenness to the way I was before.
I won't take your empty pleasures,
Or drink what doesn't fill.
I will not call a life, a thing that only kills.
I don't want modest dreams,
That are all this earth provides.
I want the ever lasting joy
Eternity’s vastness hides
Don't give me modest dreams
Nice car, nice boy, nice job.
Don't offer me paltry delights short-lived
My happiness to rob.
Here I am heartsick and longing for my God
I'm weary from the battles
And every step I've trod.
But what can this world offer me,
That it won't take away.
And with my very life blood,
Its ransom I would pay.
God take me in my brokenness
Take my empty hand.
I know my pain will disappear,
The moment you command.
Take a heartsick girl tired of the fight
And with your loving hand
A different story write.
This world has modest dreams
To sell that cannot satisfy.
We have learned this lesson well,
So why do we still buy?
- 04.09.05