Tripping
Pretty sure that I should lock my heart in a vault and throw away the key. It is to tender for this world, to fragile for human hands. It is delicate and tired of being devastated. My heart longs… and has not fully found. My heart waits. With every throb, the depths of my cries fade… into the silence of this pain. I’m tripping on the pieces, though they have been replaced. I’m tripping with every beat, every beat of this heartache.
Only God has heard my voice, only he has seen my face. Only God can change the pace, the meaning of this race. “I am a garden enclosed; a locked garden.” Only he can rescue me. He alone, truly holds the key.
