ever-open wings

I have been rescued from myself.
Ripped from it by the One
And I hold on to it with a grip that tears me apart.

So I mend me with rusted needles I've made;
I patch it up again so I can grip it,
So I can have me again.
So I can be my free.

But the One's tears come down on my head
Reminding me I'm not me,
But a part of the One.
And my free is only bondage;
Feeding the me whom the One died to dismiss:
dismiss in full through death in full.

I run off to find me,
Even after tasting the perfect One
-Who died my death that I am free,
Drinking His love, and wielding His power.
Seeing His tears fall as I wander,
I still fall - no, jump - into the old me.
In over my head.

The One hears my cry.
His wings split clouds as he descends,
Searching as a shepherd for his smallest lamb.
He scours the deep and they open up to Him;
In thick darkness my One finds me,
Raptures me in his ever-open wings.