The Small Deaths

Each breath will mirror the last,
exhaled into nothing—
into death like the past,
sacrificed to become
what alone could last.

And many more to come—
little last gasps for air,
for control.
They sacrifice every care—
leeches of life
that cling to the soul.
They take until
they swallow me whole.

They follow me everywhere;
I run away,
yet still find them there.

What falls away
was never fit for the task.
And good riddance—be gone,
you lingered far too long,
stealing my focus
from the important tasks.
For what now is right,
you would have kept wrong.
So I surrendered my fight
for a worship song.

Search my heart,
and remove what doesn’t serve You.
Tear it away—
run a spear straight through.
Do not leave behind
what cannot be reproved,
nor anything that keeps
me from what
You’d call me to do.

When my eyes close
for the final rest,
may my life return
to Your precious breath.
When my soul departs,
may all the small deaths
that came before
have prepared me
to praise You more—

to strive after holiness,
as only You can be;
to be raised up,
and to know You
as the waves
know the sea;

to be made whole,
now and for eternity.

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