My own weariness looms on the horizon,
Surprising my uplifted heart with
I cannot do battle with intangible darkness.
Slowly the heavy, slender fingers of tired distraction
Clink their hanging chains around my neck.
These chains smell musty.
Rusty from the murky mire of heavy depression,
They swirl my mind with tumultuous tension.
Rescue me my Tower.
Shower my heart with your unending light.
Fight my oppression with your sinewy shadow.
I need your wings to run to.