Going Under

My feet are
Sore my shoulders
Turned stoned tables
In their day leaving
Pools of sweat 
From knee
To toe and 
Glaring wounds
In mud stretches 
And salt flats 
All before sundown 
Where my insides 
Reign over steeples
Upon steeples 
Of 
Dreams
 

Your eyes are burden
With them gazed on me
I feel my sin and 
Long for a way to reap
Time and fall apart 
At your feet
Not to 
Praise you
But so that
You might 
See humbleness in my
Spirit and love me as
A saint loves 
A beggar
And a desert 
Needs water