nothing left to say

the morning rises,

dark and cold,

this dream without sound,

this night without day,

forty years and twenty million

empty words later,

beautiful dreams fade,

broken and dead,

new visions and epiphanies

fill the void,

feeble and weak,

nothing left to say;

all the self-absorbed pity,

all the weakness and fear,

all the lost moments,

all the wasted time,

this cacophony of

endless excuses,

proud and vain within

self-made universes,

without soul or purpose,

without depth or emphasis,

just one more day,

one more touch,

one more breath,

nothing left to say;

rules have no meaning here,

fantasies fly like the wind,

moving back and forth,

abandoned with the morning trash;

no one knows the cost,

no one knows the price;

before Your throne, do I fall,

into Your hands do I place my life,

upon Your mercy and grace,

lies my only hope, I am Yours,

to do with as You will;

nothing left to say.

.

.