lent, week 3: baptize my mind.
Reaching, always reaching, never reaching solid ground
Seeking, always seeking, never seeking what I've found
My mind is flooded constantly with thought--
thoughts of grandeur, of lust, of pride, of frustration,
of hatred, of anger, of annoyance,
of despair, of trivialities. And it's hard for me to
break through the surface sometimes
and breathe, and look at the sun.
Both my hands are filled with guilt
Both my eyes are blind with filth
So I go swimming deeper in pursuit of buried treasure,
while my tank slowly runs out of oxygen,
and the captain of my boat starts diving in after me.
Be my absolution, be my absolution
Hey, baptize my mind
I need even clearer waters to find my home in--
maybe the river that makes the city glad.
Pull me out of the chaotic deep and take me to
Jordan's shores, and let me feel it peeling off my
wet suit for real skin.