The space between.

expectations vs. reality

You want me to be:

Your ever-burning bedside lamp. Your golden calf. A radiant sunrise. A tailored garment, fitting your desires. A polished mirror. A fragrant bouquet, pleasing your senses. A sturdy bridge, connecting your gaps. A flexible reed. A silent echo. A sponge in a toxic swap. A vacuum cleaner, breathing in all your dust.

I am:

Unforgivably, human. A clay vessel. Never enough. An empty cup. An off-key song. A stormy sea. A crossroad. A gloomy day. A faulty creaking door. A flickering candle, vulnerable and unreliable. A dress that keeps falling off your shoulders. A moon in eclipse. A bamboo in winds. A fractured mosaic.

God says I am:

His. Enough. A strong oak. A clean slate. A lyre of Praise. A sacred altar. A beautiful sound. A lotus flower. A pruned branch. River of living water. A healed wound. A city set upon an hill. A shofar's call. A letter from Christ. A stairway to heaven.