All of Worth in Me

My soul is twisted and malformed

Ugly

A hunchback, a Hyde, a phantom of the opera

A hideous ghoul

There is nothing in it worth the keeping

My soul is a dungeon

Filled and imbued with fetid stench

Time-faded bloodstains and echoes of screams long-ended

Hidden beneath a cardboard castle

Nothing with value to the memory

My soul is a cruel and aged man

Weak

With gaping wounds that fester and no hope

Cruel for his fear and pride

Nothing worth a drawn breath

Except

There is one thing in my soul that is good

It was not mine originally

It was a gift, something to be grown and shared, like friendship bread

Each day it breathes life into more of my soul, betters it

God’s Spirit, his love spreading within me