Man in his pride knows best.
So says the arrogant spirit
Because God made you
In His image,
You crack the door
Of your sciences,
For less than a peek,
And marvel at your prowess.
In awe, you assume
The accomplishment your own.
No thanks for eyes, ears,,
The touch, the smell,
The faculties of intellect
And will.
Mine, all it mine you say,
And set out in sinful disregard.
No honor to the Name,
Simple blasphemy your frame.
Wake up, O Dreamer
You revel in your ignorance,
While angels wait
To open your swollen,
Lustful eyes,
To your shame
And repentance.
O, Man,
Humbly gaze on Truth,
And purity’s delight.
Say but the word
That your soul may be healed.
©2012 Joann Nelander
Into Stillness 