Me! I! Myself! Mine!
I shout these words in militant exertion,
Demanding people to stop,
Commanding them to hear,
Ordering their full, undivided, worshipful attention.
"Am I not the centre of the universe!? Listen to ME!" I scream,
And sulk like an angry child as the world continues on,
Unperturbed, unaltered, un-adoring,
Without even noticing my voice.
If no one else will pay me heed,
Then I, at least, must do so.
So I worship my own image,
And prostrate myself before the alter of my self conceit.
I sing my own praises to my own ear,
And ********** myself to myself
in a vain attempt to satisfy my undying vanity.
Oh, you vainglorious *******
Made illegitimate by the illegitimacy of your false worship
And the hypocrisy of your heart.
Do you not know, you were made to kneel? Fashioned to bow,
Not to your own image, but before the visage if Him Who made you in His own likeness
That you might bear within yourself the most sacred cartouche,
The most precious signet,
The most holy seal.
For you have been called to higher things than this broken clay vessel you defile with your adulterous worship.
Oh, you conceited fool!
Puffed up in your own pride,
Unaware of how utterly worthless you have made yourself.
And yet your Maker still stoops from Heaven
To hear your piteous moans,
And His heart weeps to see your self-inflicted wounds.
Thus He reaches down
And whispers His deepest Love to you
While you are yet gleefully drowning in your sin.
So unaware are you of anything but fleshly gratification.
But He touches you,
When you least expect it.
Like pearls discovered in a dung heap,
He surprises you with the Treasure of His Grace.
And with the tenderness of His Loving touch,
Lifts you from your mire and whispers in your ear:
"Oh, my Little Worm, I am your Redeemer."
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC
Me! I! Myself! Mine!
I shout these words in militant exertion,
Demanding people to stop,
Commanding them to hear,
Ordering their full, undivided, worshipful attention.
"Am I not the centre of the universe!? Listen to ME!" I scream,
And sulk like an angry child as the world continues on,
Unperturbed, unaltered, un-adoring,
Without even noticing my voice.
If no one else will pay me heed,
Then I, at least, must do so.
So I worship my own image,
And prostrate myself before the alter of my self conceit.
I sing my own praises to my own ear,
And ********** myself to myself
in a vain attempt to satisfy my undying vanity.
Oh, you vainglorious *******
Made illegitimate by the illegitimacy of your false worship
And the hypocrisy of your heart.
Do you not know, you were made to kneel? Fashioned to bow,
Not to your own image, but before the visage if Him Who made you in His own likeness
That you might bear within yourself the most sacred cartouche,
The most precious signet,
The most holy seal.
For you have been called to higher things than this broken clay vessel you defile with your adulterous worship.
Oh, you conceited fool!
Puffed up in your own pride,
Unaware of how utterly worthless you have made yourself.
And yet your Maker still stoops from Heaven
To hear your piteous moans,
And His heart weeps to see your self-inflicted wounds.
Thus He reaches down
And whispers His deepest Love to you
While you are yet gleefully drowning in your sin.
So unaware are you of anything but fleshly gratification.
But He touches you,
When you least expect it.
Like pearls discovered in a dung heap,
He surprises you with the Treasure of His Grace.
And with the tenderness of His Loving touch,
Lifts you from your mire and whispers in your ear:
"Oh, my Little Worm, I am your Redeemer."
The primary concept behind this poem comes from the Bible in the Book of Isaiah, Chapter 41, verse 14. In this chapter, God is speaking to the wayward, sinful people of Israel. In verse fourteen, He says " 'Fear not, you worm, Jacob, you men of Israel! I am the One who helps you,' declares the Lord; 'Your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel."
The way that God calls His people a "worm" struck me. Because it's not used as an insult, or said in disappointment. But rather it is spoken as though this little worm, most worthless of all the creatures, was especially dear to Him. He loves us despite our lowly, worthless state. And He whispers this promise over His Beloved worm: "Do not be afraid. For I am your Redeemer."
Oh, how beautiful is that!
Request permission to use this poem