“Your eyes saw my unformed body
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be. ” – Ps. 139:16 (NIV)
God, you see my true substance in its imperfection
All of me you penned down in sacred outline
Steadily the real me is being fashioned
Each day I come alive.
You, sons of Adam, do I meet your standard
For a man worthy to be called good?
Can I dare point a finger
To one buried under as he should?
Here I stand surrounded by you
Dressed in the clothing of approving you
But do you know me as you should?
Is my witness upon the wings of truth?
You see me upon my throne in charge
But can you tell the land from which I emerged?
Can you tell the dawn from which I arose?
A land of contempt and great sorrows
The pit from which I was drawn
Was the land of my sojourn
This land was my only known world
The clay of my very own mound
I’m me and I accept my dress
Like it or not, each step is progress
But to fit into your expectation for me
Is too high a summit to reach
I can’t satisfy you even if I plow
And for that I have no power now
But as imperfect as you see me be
Never forget that I am a perfect me.