Drunk

Drunk with Your revolution,
shattered by soul-bending
Grace; How can I return?
Dry, rasping like raw
sandpaper, grating on
the avarice of self...
The freedom of love
is more than i can bear.
How can this be attainable,
this Passion?
The promise is too much,
blinding, seething on the
boiling ocean of self.
I need my chains to
bring meaning, sustenance
to my broken, bleeding heart;
swept away by the warmth
of Your arms!
'Take my yoke', You whisper in my ravaged soul,
'for I am gentle'...