Cornerstone

This poem is really intended to be a song, but I haven't (yet) been gifted with music composition. Who knows what God has for me, though? I haven't ruled it out yet.

That place inside him is not really void
He fills it however he can
He says "I am enough for me"
"I rely on all that I am."
Flat on his face, broken in half
How could he not be let down
Fallible, flawed, fickle and fake
He buries his face in the ground

Again he will try, but see it run dry
He drinks of a fount growing sour
Left there to grieve, he can only believe
That he is the source of his power
The source of his power

She aches for something worth living for
She's looking for love that abounds
Man after man, joy turned to dust
Like hollowing, echoing sounds
Flat on her face, broken in half
How could she not be let down
Fallible, flawed, fickle and fake
She buries her face in the ground

Again she will try, but see it run dry
She drinks of a fount growing sour
Left there to grieve, she can only believe
That they are the source of her power
The source of her power

If our lives are a doorway, like an arch we walk through
If our days rise up to let us pass through
If we build up from the threshold, and choose every stone
What will we choose for our cornerstone?

Their purpose wears thin, hearts sunken in
They can't help but feel they're alone
I die to myself, and throw up a white flag
I invite the King to his throne
Flat on my face, broken in half
And yet I am never let down
Fallible, flawed, fickle and fake
Yet in me His love can abound
His love will abound

Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.

-Jonah 2:8