Keep the fall Central, with the snow That comes upon your palms Under the heat of your stare. You are The woman without a plea To make, in the nighttime openness. Two eyes That deign to cry For a wilderness, beneath my sight. At my feet Where stepping stones are imagined, I am committed to have my seat Upon the hollow oak trunk To contemplate all that grew you weary. No throne for an angel without his wings, For I am the savior, no more. No more to stand with hands that block the blood From streaming at every wound To you. No place in Heaven Where lungs need not to breathe The vapors of deceit, From Mankind's fault, Mankind's fall. By tears to reach upon the grass blades, By tears to reach upon the soil, There has been dew to draw me towards You, in the Hellish foil Of a man, without a reason to stand On the iron of his command, On the silver of his tears, On the gold of his flesh, For I have succumbed to my own crime Of negligence. I am still more, Or no more. With or without, your eyes upon my stablest side That falters in scheming pride.