By Arcassin Burnham

feel the pain at every extent of your life,
its nothing new to this game we play or a level of polite,
this was always war in some of our eyes and even gods too,
bringing destruction to countries that don't even need dictating stools,
while we run around and do dumb **** for the amusement of seeing no rules,
so laws can be enforced on us but its too complicated to prove,
thinking back and growing up with issues,
with more problems of being sat on like a church pew,
praise his name in light for better virtues,
we're all dogs on a leash with a bowl of social media to try to get us
through,
but thats not life and this ain't life either....

held up,
so many,
different,
problems,
i can't hide anymore..
caught up,
in the,
wrong things,
when i,
walk out of the door..
you could get a piece of my presence,
looking to the sky,heaven knows i learned my lesson,
But i gotta stay in between the lines unless i wanna be saved
i know whats in store...

A soul like you couldn't grow up in a world this cruel..
A soul like you could be more precious more than beauty its self..
A soul like you couldn't be more lovelier than ever..
A soul like you could carry me to new places..

held up,
so many,
different,
problems,
i can't hide anymore..
caught up,
in the,
wrong things,
when i,
walk out of the door..
you could get a piece of my presence,
looking to the sky,heaven knows i learned my lesson,
But i gotta stay in between the lines unless i wanna be saved
i know whats in store.

My lonely worship
A beautiful new dawn
Freed from pretty lies

Protection divine
His kiss laid upon my brow
A sanctuary

The song from above
This poor pilgrim's heart is light
Submerged in the spirit

Fortified in you
The sons and the daughters rest
Singing out your name

on the side
off the mall
I found in night
the alter of a drunk
a stuff green frog
wet cigar ****
impaled his red throat
and not enough empty liquor
a straightened up cup
four fifths with rain
colored with ****
long left us with his abyss
he'll never get anywhere
with worship like this

but still there is a space
like a secret

maybe, does
Neil Gaiman know about this

There's this thing about worship
that I often forget.

You see it's not just this thing
that we do on Sunday.
It's every day;
Every breath and movement of our hands
is done because we understand
that God's grace is not a prize we won.

It was a selfless giving of His only son
that He gave to rend our chains undone
and bring us into relationship with Him
by the victory over sin that we proclaim He won!

Yet somehow life still becomes some kind of rat race
trying to appear holy and saving face
with no admittance that we still need grace
and our response to that grace just kind of...

Disappears.

And then I wonder why I don't see His face,
why I'm not moved by His Word
why I'm not changed by His grace.
I wonder why I don't want Him around,
while my wrists are secretly bound
with shackles I like too much to take off.

But on Sunday morning I pray to be free
to realize that this Jesus did die for me
so that I could be with Him where He is one day,
yet day to day, I almost never say

God, I need you, and I'm not okay.

And I know it doesn't have to be this way!
I know He gave His Spirit, He promised that He'd stay
With me until the end of the age
and even in my deepest darkness His love for me is still the same
But God, oh God, I'm so ashamed
of all the things I've done while periodically praising Your name.

But there is no condemnation from You, You say.
You invite me to turn and run away
Into your arms and that I'll be changed--
That You will give me a new heart
and remove all of this shame
If I'd just confess my sin to You, You'd take the pain.

So I beg, and beg, that every day
My response to You would be the same
To run to You and admit my need
For Your grace, for Your love
above everything.

That I'd never not be responding
with my life, my work, and all my talking
to the Christ that stepped into time
to make me His, and make Him mine.

Worship is fingers
Awry offering baskets
And ventures 'morrow.

When God created the world
He was so kind to give us eyes
So we could see the wonder
And beauty he placed around us
So we could admire the vast ocean
And the painted sunset sky
And the wildflowers that bloom
Alongside the highway

When God created the world
He was so kind to give us ears
So we could hear the songs
And the rhythm of the earth
So we could listen to the birdsong
And the rustle of the wind
And the cadence of the raindrops
Falling on the rooftops

When God created the world
He was so kind to give us voices
So we could laugh together
And cry on each other's shoulders
So we could share advice
And tell one another stories
And whisper secrets
In the dead of the night

Here am I
Amongst thousands
And thousands
Of voices -
Poets and journalists,
Novelists and singers -
Clanging the cymbal
Of earth's groaning cry.
There you are,
Hosts of angels
Singing, your voice
Together sounding
The praises of our God.