For an unending number of days
I have known an incompleteness.
Words and phrases fail to form a string of sentences,
My head is full of half-thought out ideas
Half empty pages are evidence of this.
My days are scarred with good intentions
Once thought,
Twice planned,
But never carried out.
Sometimes my work feels half done,
My imperfect humanness tells me, that's alright.
I don't believe it
But I don't do a thing to change it.
And stuck in this incomplete world
I am reminded of a completeness
That is simple,
Yet almost unthinkable,
Still, it is mine.
"Come to me"
Are the words engraved on the pages,
Spoken by the One I love.
How can I deny myself the joy of living this?
If I put my incomplete self in Him
There I will find completeness.
Complete peace.
Complete joy.
Complete freedom.
Complete love.
Complete forgiveness.
Complete grace.
And so,
I give my incomplete self completely to You.
