Jesus, i find your spirit stirring me in halves,

i wake, to hands, and a face, a warm tear and a look, ah, you're still here. calm, peace, love

Jesus, i find your spirit
stirring me in halves,
one toward the song of heaven
and i am lifted from a miry mess;
the other dwelleth in darkness below
and i both pity and wound the soul
in fractures, shattered and melted into
mirth and earth, the concerns of
pilgrims and progress seems only
a mirrored image of the path down,
down,

down into darkness's breast,
and i find myself sleeping my life away, and 
when i am stirred, only 
weeping, weeping, until i sleep again, trapped 
in an unrestored embrace, love 
that dwelleth deep, but cannot keep me 
safe, "Cannot keep, cannot keep," i mutter 
amidst a dream, i seem 
piteous, ignorant of these 
high, sterile eyes, staring 
at my skin, clean of compassion, and 
composed in softening generalizations; and 
i ache, "Would you dismiss him so quickly?"
i wake, to hands, and
a face, a warm tear and
a look. ah, you're still 
here.