Watch as these fractured legs take broken strides on patched roads


They are headed to the place of ease, a site of surrender

I have no grains, no bull, and no oil to offer

Torn pieces of my heart are my only sacrifice

I have been on a cheap thrill

I have played myself, losing to myself; almost losing myself

I kissed several frogs with eyes open, ears dull of hearing but heart wanting

I ran wild races, cat-rat chases and cycled in blue phases

but like seeds scattered, like soldiers in a foreign country;

Torn pieces of my heart was all I gathered

I fought myself, beating myself; almost slaying myself

Choking in shortcomings; my lungs lust to breathe in something perfect

In this battlefield, my wounds have become my crest of honor

Torn pieces of my heart are bundled but in leaking vessels

In the season of dark clouds, little foxes stole my reaping

And with every step I take, I lose yet another bough from my harvest

I still forge on, instructing my mind in motivation

that this heavy load I carry, I will drop in a short while

On my way and on the leeward to the altar;

I bring torn pieces of my heart as my only sacrifice

Ps 51:17 

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou will not despise.

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