Form that is

Suspicious, hopeless form that is
Never moving only growing.
Wrought from evil, wrought from sin.
Oh what a precarious line we walk,
When we debate the origin.

And who allows such pain to form
To blend and break this curs’d structure.
From evil fashioned years ago
We hunt and cry and stumble bellow.

To be present on the day long ago,
When such evil was brought upon the world.
To hunt and curse this wretched sin,
As if to say I would do it better again.

To think that my selfish pride would mold a different outcome
From ashes and dust I was brought to be
From dirt and mud my actions do bring

So be a prideful wondering minstrel
Who plays songs of glorious looking within
To sow a soul filled with hope,
filled with pride and filled with glee.

So I will not fret or bring hope to its knees
I keep a place of assurance buried inside
For my heart is secure on what it knows
From truth it was built and truth it will know.

I am not of this world all though it can seem.
I am freed from death by the man who paid with his life.
My body will war and fight for control.
Though death may rise,
Though hearts may cry,
Though pride is growing,
Though pain is flowing,
Though tears will fall,
Though minds will crawl.

Jesus my savior and hope shall He be.