We all have our ruins.
Those bits we look back on
And wish they had played out differently.
The embarrassments and errors,
The arguments and friction,
sttakes and d misda… misdemeanours.
There is a king of ruins, a royal rebuilder,
One who took the ruins of death and despair,
And made a new life, a new future.
One who can take the ruins of our lives,
At any time and any age,
And make something of them.
Please help us with the broken bits
That still block our path,
The piles of debris that overshadow us,
The bits we find so hard to get past.
You who have had so much debris thrown at you,
So much waste and rubbish,
So much hurt and pain over the years.
So much of the fallout from life’s ruins,
Placed at the ground zero of your rugged cross.
Perhaps, in truth, we are all walking ruins,
Dressing ourselves in outfits which hide the fact,
Not realising that in reality we are valued and precious
To you, in our shambolic, chaotic state.