saving sorrow.

I wish I could keep your hand in mine,
And let my tears tear down the mountain,
I wish I could bring sunrise to your dying heart,
And let my whispers break your surface.
But, undone, my arms stay firmly wrapped,
Though my eyes lock yours in fervor.
For my fragile self is not enough,
And I am not your God.

May the Lord break my heart with what breaks His,
I pray and plead for Christ's chasm eyes,
And now I see only crumbling fires and dying beauty,
The plea becomes reality, my heart breaks apart.
Sorrow, black and scarlet velvet,
Rushing, suffocates, steal my veins,
I beg to pour my life within you, fire,
But constrained, it smolders, seeks my eyes.
Anything, tear my heart to save the dead one,
I am drowning in still lakes for you,
My love, as hope, cascades beside you,
But I am not your God.

I wish my fingers could hold your frame as one,
And let these tears tear down your mountains,
I wish these numb hands could give you moonlight,
And let my whispers bring a surface.
Dark and deep and crying gasps,
This sorrow cannot breathe your heart to beat,
This heart blood, spilling, is not enough,
For I am not your God.