Nothing Left to Say

The morning rises
dark and cold,
this time 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
their self-made universe,
without soul or purpose,
without depth or emphasis,
just one more day,
one more touch,
one more breath;

away.

Rules have no meaning here,
fantasies move back and forth,
flying like the wind,
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.
.

.