My Soul's Complaint Poem by Kirk Rogers

Heavenly Father
where can I look?
to whom can I speak?

no one but you knows how troubled is my spirit
every joy is in the already been
and pain is stored up for tomorrow

hope is drained away like a kicked bucket on desert sand
and I am poured out
to wisp away like a vapor

to you only do I bring my cause
there is no value in men
and no other god

but you alone are God
my allegiance have I sworn
but the lesson is harder than the student can bear

perhaps I am less than you thought
less than I thought
less than a thought

maybe I am just a momentary stirring
unable to fully form
to fully be all that you intend

the wolves are baying in the distance
buy already am I undone
unraveled, all my colors are spilled

if there is value in me, it is hidden in you
if there is a tomorrow, then this sun is only risen in you
my vision is darkened

I cannot see the bright day that rises in your eyes
perhaps tomorrow will shine
but even in light I will grope

every man lives by his sight
but I live by the Spirit of your Presence
and my daily bread is the fragrance of your love

a man will say to eat is enough
another will say 'work' is the all in all
but I say nothing a man can hear

I cry out to the immortal, invisible God
in groanings only the Spirit can discern
and bring my soul's complaint to You