Ocean of the Blind

The sweet sunrise fell on my shoulders

and I burned under its weight. 

I waited for the crisp crinkle of my skin

to pull the tears back into my eyes. 

I didn't know how rotted my hands were

until I was free and they were healed.

My heals shot my legs full of the old bones

and I felt the purging and repossession of my veins. 

In vain I tried to pull my new appendages from the sky

and the firm hands wept lakes because I was weak. 

A week went by and my own power 

was only enough to break me there. 

They're are better ways, meant ways,

for one to grow from the old into the new. 

I knew I had to let go and be cradled again 

as the child I became when He brought me home. 

He homed in on my soul, flamed and burning empty, 

and taught me to fly but I was no pupil. 

My pupils dilated and I chose to know the dark

instead of a Father's loving light; I would not see. 

My cried sea filled my void in great gushes of water

and salt dry my hopes and bones bare. 

I bear this dark ocean of weight in place of a feather load

as the lighthouse gently calls my name.