Belief is Backward

What game is this
You mean to play
Whose profits pay in poverty?
This wool you pull
So I can’t see
But doing so
I’m made happy?
This invitation
Offered gift
Which, to accept, I must be taken
And taken from
Every day,
Your demands
For following on the way.
Before a Beauty
I do not myself have
A Truth which instructs
And in doing so confounds.
It began as being “part of the team”
As a taste of glory, or birth of a dream
But drawing near
Leads to the cross.
It was confusing then,
And confusing still,
This way
To take our sins away.

Sitting here
With pale skin
And no one to talk to
Where is the icing on the cake?
I have nothing to give

At first, there you were
Just going for it,
Walking through the closed door of my life
Telling me to go for it
Then leaving when I most wish you’d stay.
God grasped for a moment,
Then gone, and robbed
but for grace,
a flitting thing.

“Quiet,” he says
“All is well.
Everything changes anyways.”

We have grown poorer since the start
But freer…
We were always poor,
Nothing to give
Nothing to say
No great tasks to accomplish
Not really
Just vague dreams
We were always poor
But are only seeing it now.

“You know what, Lord…
I’m glad to be a part of it…
Despite the loss…”