Magpie.

Scratching wonder, woe, and wishes
Fall on paper made of stone,
The unyieldy medium of this hard soul
Upon which she wrote her love.
Oh soft voice!
This balm of breath
Soothes my thirsty cracks
With the gift of absolution
Of my past, and of my black;
Breathing life into my lips,
Driving light into my black.
Lightwave heartbeats
Prove my life.
This jumping organ
Moves my hands to action.

Thanks to Tess over at Magpie Tales for the prompt. To find more prompt driven wordiness, go to http://magpietales.blogspot.com/