Ark

My heart cries to hear you speak
of love and sweetness turned to dust
and shadows rising from the deep -
The past has snatched all, left nought but rust.

You keep your sorrows in a jar
and every night it grows.
My heart is parched to hear you speak
but not a trickle, not letting go.

The jar will burst its walls someday
This river will be dead
waiting for the unpromised flood
the waters will have come too late.

wingsofdeath