The thick, deep fabric of grief
a sackcloth night drapes over me
from its star-scattered ashen stare
fall whispers of Your divinity
As the threadbare morning comes
welcome and worn, like a belief
You are the only Sun I see
and You will burn eternally
I rest my world-weary head in Your palm
Cast my war-torn heart at Your feet
I sleep with You in stone, at home
And alive, arise with keys
The silence is drenched with Your song
open and alight, like a reprieve
You are the only voice that breathes
And when You speak, I see
Wrapped in chains to remain
Bound and broken and unclean
You carried this grief to a tree
and You bled the whole world free
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