When words are not enough, I cry

and in crying hope to unleash
some of the burden that nails me,
like Jesus to the cross

and set free my spirit,
divine and infinite

into the world where ghosts walk
and haunt my sleep,
but I hold hands with them, also

and we walk blindly into the moon
moon child, bright and brilliant
white light coursing through my veins

I cry, but tears are not weakness
and still I stand strong