Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Upon this edge I sleep

My soul.
I feel as though it is taking leave of me.
I need a tangible amount of mercy.
Just enough hope to grasp.
Surviving on this bread and water,
My heart is failing at last.

Hidden are the verses in my mind.
Eyes too closed to see.
The very air with which I breath,
threatens to smother me.

Where is my Savior's mercy?
Will His hands gather my needs?
Taken from this world of suffering,
My Savior, my only relief.
Upon this edge I sleep.

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