Poem:: Architect of Self

I like to believe I am a master architect, a seasoned builder,
Erecting intricate structures, not of wood, stone or steel, but of self.
I know I am not alone in my field, but must confess as a householder:

There is a fear that cripples at the knees,
Being unloved in showing the real me.

So, I...
Formulate.
Fabricate.
Alternate.
Duplicate anything that appears worthy,

Worthy...
of applause,
of oohs and awes,
of being loved...

So, I renovate this broken house I call my life,
To exhibit perfection without strife,
Cover these blemished lead stained halls,
Conceal these lies in a room hidden with false walls,
Stacked to the ceiling, espestice and all.

So, I paint this vinyl siding with a fresh coat of vanity,
Shroud the rot in the roof with shallow shingles, like the rest of humanity,
Burn pictures not so flattering,
Remove facebook comments not so becoming,
Fabricate status updates that bolster my image, a wise fool so cunning.

But, I begin to fear,
because they are getting too near.
What will happen when I remove my mask?
Will they gasp, this meeting being our last?
What will happen when they see me through these fabric lies threadbare?
Will they invite my love or look elsewhere?

So, I submit my image to the Architect of fame,
Too long I tarnished, defaced and profaned His name.
Tear this decrepit house to the ground, start from inside!
What this heart needs is not a renovation,
It needs a demolition!
An abolition!

I suffocate in this quarantined house, a lonely life that is merely a spoof,
Swing a wrecking-ball through this rotten roof,
Rip out these paper thin walls,
Scrape the lead paint off these callous halls,
Tailor me after the image of the One,
The God who made me through His Son.

Christ is my template,
my prototype,
my archetype,
my antecedent,
my foundation on whom these new walls are resurrected...

So, Christ break down this animated undead heart and rebuild it in three days,
Make this your home, every room softly filled with your love full ablaze,
Set its frame firmly on the cornerstone of Truth void of lies,
Be authentic without crossed fingers before the world's eyes.
No longer do I fear rejection,
For the Father's love is the perfect protection.

I used to believe I was a master architect, a seasoned builder,
But in my home Christ is the householder.