His butterfly

See me at the doorway, The division between the Dark and the Divine. Insecurely, I inch toward my Immanuel While puddles collect at the foot of the Father, Being bottled up one by one. My I Am. Notice me limping as the lame, Not looking for a crutch, But for a foundation, a Rock, My I Am. Watch me as I search and seek, As I find the love of my life, Who was and is and is to come, My bright and beautiful star, My I Am. Exchange me, Lord, exchange my life. I hand You my heart as I kneel to the floor, Knowing that my God makes all things new. An unsightly snake He remolds, and He blesses His new and blooming creation, His butterfly. That is my I Am.