The mystery machine
  inside me knows more than me.

I have felt it do impossible, unnamed things.

Secretive marches streaming in night missions, pulling armies of light through me.

My lips have not uttered it.
My silence cries alone, thinking of it.
I felt the river of God break me, inside, where it all makes sense.

You took my words, crushed them all, left me with this expansion inside where you have obliterated every wound I ever felt.

How do I proceed to the next stage, now that my pollution is gone, and the water holds the sun, rushing through me like a heavenly beam of purity?

All my locomotive prayers shapeshift to liquid on my cheeks.

I will wait for you to March.
My tears quaking in another world.
My understanding reaching for more.

The keys to your door gleaming in the feelings this mystery machine produces as I sway helpless from your beloved wind.