Worth

see how the world clothes you in sheets of sin, entangling
but wonderfully terrifying, for you know no better
as you treat yourself like meat
ripped to shreds
by lusting wolves
while you dress medium rare because it is what he always prefers

as you treat yourself like a slab of stone
chipping away because perfection is just at the edge,
or so they say. but you're crumbling

as you treat yourself like a machine
forever trying to function properly, exceedingly
churning out lines and lines of A's and 100 percents
so that mommy and daddy finally pay you your wage
of worth.

how much is that worth
is she worth it, is he worth it
is this worth your time
let us measure the worth in dimes
are you worth it?

As He played with the dreams upon His fingertips, of atoms and galaxies
all beautifully unborn
He thought of them, the things to come, and that day
where He would be pierced so deeply that His blood would run like a river

and with a joy unfelt before in any human heart, set the very first second into motion
and spoke into the trembling darkness, Let there be light.

because to Him, they were worth it all.


could you read yourself, like a poem?
not skimming, but understanding the words that
were only given to you, deeper than the sea
a rhythm that even angels long to have

could you look at yourself, like a painting?
to see how every etch and blur and hint of color
is necessary for the final masterpiece
to be in awe of every brilliant stroke and filling

could you hear yourself, like a song?
do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti
so lovely
every note to send chills down the spine
every note that the limbs just cannot resist

glorious, but not because of you
for without the Poet you are just vocabulary
without the Artist you are just scribbles
without the Composer you are just noise

but you are His greatest masterpiece,
purchased by His own life to be priceless
Made in His own image
meant for divinity