Life For Which I Die

Maybe my conflict has bled,
Too long,
The lifeblood of a poet's song.
Perhaps this struggle cuts so deep
That Sanctuary's peace seems quick
And wrong.
Too easy for one like me,
Like you.
Leaving one more wretched thing to do-
To take the shredded wisps of Heart Material up
And, holding them gently
In my hands,
Walk empty-chested
To the end.
Maybe this was or is someone you know.
It might be that her or his wounds
Don't show.
Perhaps their struggle hides so deep
That they do not know how
To share it or bare it.
It tears at them to weep.
I don't know how, though I may want
To live in their shoes.
It leaves a second choice to choose
Do I dare to bare my care
Or else my Material release into the sky
And with each open heart out there, share
The life for which I die?
This I've done, this I do
Every time I share, with
The life for which I die.

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