My Ambrosia,
I feel for you.

To hold Jah,
I'd not be blue.

But when I cry,
It's because of you.

For I feel your tears,
Like you do.

If it is a
Yearning you seek,

Then know this:
I too am weak.

Though for love,
I am too meek.

But this pain
From my heart leaks

And burns like a flame,
In and out of me.

I feel you,
My ambrosia.

Just out of
My grasping reach.

Not selfishly,
but to renew

What should be
Living within us all.

Love. But I hurt
Cause you do.

Cry. Sigh.
Asking all why.

Why must I
Suffer in life so?

And alone through
Ordeals go?

Please release me
From this steady pain.

That I might
breath again.

Breath again,
Free of pain.

Why oh why
Must I cry?

And die inside
While life goes on

In bliss,
Ignorantly.

Not crying,
but laughingly.

As witnessed by me,
Absently.

While trying to remove
My fears and set free

The feelings
That dwell within me.

I am sorry.
Please forgive me

My pain, for I
Am too weak.

Weak and crying
Again. Silently.

Like summer rain.
Like sickness

To be sustained.
To be regained.

Like sickness
In my brain.

Is this pain.
Killing me. Hard.

Leaving me slain,
Yet not in death,

But in new pain.
Each day I see

My daggers
Pursuing me.

Piercing me.
Like paper scree.

Impaling me.
Insaning me.

Revealing me
To be a-lone-ly.

With these words of feeling
And only a sliver of peace.

To write what inside
Breaks free.

Like an ocean
Damned Millennia.

No rest for the wicked
Means no peace for me.

For I cannot rest
Until all rest with me.

And for those who seek
To disrupt what I plan to see,

Then woe, woe unto you be.
Forgive them I will not,

For they know just what they do.
And there shall be no quarter

For those who've been untrue.
No rest for the wicked

Means no peace for the weary.
Until and unless we all rest equally.

soul