Harder, hit me harder oh ye falling stones. Comfort me Ooh lonely road, sting my feet oh ye sweet thorns of lust and infidelity. Remind me how alive I am and remind me of how sad my life has become. Fill my mouth, oh bitter fruit of derelict reap. Let your juices flow down and stick at my throat. Let me choke and gag and drop to the ground with a thud. I want to burn and grind to dust. I mourn thee, like a young lioness abandoned by its mother, like a young bird whose mother was stoned mid flight. I have called and shouted my voice hoarse. I have sung, I have roared but all that answer me are the echoes of the night. My pride is wounded and my glory shattered. I am lost, just let me mourn. Try not to take this shroud off me, try not to pry me away from the cold and barren ash, for I know that with enough hope a fire shall be kindled from that. And even though I mourn and cry, I still can’t stop hoping that my tears fall not on barren ground and my faith is not a mustard seed under a rock. I have loved the beast in you, why shouldn’t I love the woman when she comes out? Why is it, tell me, that I am kneeling at your feet, you so mighty and me just a tiny ant. Tell me why it is that my back is bended and my knees sagging, is it the weight of expectations that will never be met? Tell me why it is that I am falling while you are there rising. I am drunk, intoxicated and foolish, to hope and pray, to watch and wait for I know I shall never get to have you. What is the end to this road? Where is the summit of this mountain? How can I test the depth of your rivers when I know very well I shall drown in it? You are the only woman I have loved, but how funny that you are the predator and I am the prey. How sad that I am the river and you are the sky? Is it fate that has it that we shall see but not touch? That we shall dream but never wake? What am I without you? Nothing but a wisp of clouds on a sunny day. I am nothing but a drop of rain in a flood, as insignificant as a tiny rock on a mighty mountain. Forgive me my heart, for trying to fly without wings, and submerging without gills. Take your handkerchief off my eyes, you tiny hands, for thou shall never cry again.