I wake every morning
With a heavy body
And a burning heart.

I tire
By the end of every night
And I just want to hang
This burning desire
Up on the rack,
Like a soaked coat,
Dampened by utter confusion
And the turmoil that brings.

Even though
I pour salt water tears
On the coals
And watch the steam carry toward the sky;

It means nothing by sunrise.

With light of the sun
It sparks again,
The burn to understand.

The yearn I have to know
All that I Am
And the one who created it.