This poem is about my struggles as a human being. About the first couple of lines; Life is like sand in an hourglass and God remembers that we are just dust...

Here I am.
I am just a man
made of rust colored dust
and dust-covered sand
that has rushed past the glass
that touches my past
and as such
has dusted my whole life span.
Don’t have much but this crutch
that I hold in my hand.
I feel crushed by the lust
that my soul can’t command.
But God’s justice I trust
makes me whole when I stand
not from stuff in my guts,
from me holding His hand.
I’m beholding His plan
that’s remolding this man.
My journey’s rough
like I’m traveling with Smeagol and Sam.
And sojourning so much,
I believe, no, I am
every bit as precious
as their ring’s gold band.
And though I don’t get press much
like Ringo’s band,
I often show pressure
through wrinkles and bags.
I’m standing here
on the brink of forty,
no desire for beer
or to drink a forty
‘cus my love for smearing
the ink’s my forte’.
It at once appears
as both shrink and
court’s me.
But thank God that His Word makes me think
and exhorts me,
helps to support me,
untwists the sin that exists to contort me.
It pulls no shorts,
purports
to find my escort, see
I couldn’t have a good woman except God
help me find one,
or spot one at all
if He didn’t define one.
Eyes get caught up
always seeking the fine one
instead of seeking a branch
grafted onto the vine. One
breath wafted from the Divine One
makes the fruit of my craft
jump up just to find one
pad designed to outline runs
about the heavenly bloodline from
heaven’s sublime Son.
Though at times my mind is inclined to run,
I keep praying I won’t succumb,
cuz life’s scrum
keeps on grievin’ me.
But Christ guards my outcome
and says, “Son, just believe in me.”
And I’m not like some
who think one day He’ll be leavin’ me.
I know that Christ will soon
heal my human breathing. Free
this human being,
from a human be running
to a human be something
and live
as a
human becoming.