The tear
My feet are cut, my hands drip blood
My back is scorched and covered with mud.
My eyes are dry though I cry and cry
My ache is deep from try and try.
And if I could just touch the hem
Of the robe that I wear.
And feel the heat
In the place with the tear.
Just to see the tear that loosed the flood.
Just to see the tear that shaped the mud.
Just to see the tear that sundered truth
Without splitting its eternal proof.
If I could chase away the world’s delay
And make all the rest stay and stay
There’d be no need to pray and pray
Any more, any more.
Just to see all those pictures, all those thrills,
All those valleys, all those hills.
All those laughs, all those wills.
All those fruited and fruitless tills.
Till there’s nothing left, nothing right
Save the heat of that tear burning bright.