My Father

The abyss breaths in the dark depths alone;
Disguising itself to seem inviting.
The song it sings is that of a groan.
The mind contemplates but it is fighting;
The trapeze is waiting for your loose feet.
Trepidation tightens your shaking fists;
The snicker from the gap shows you’ve been beat;
The blinding blackness targets and persists.
Now it consumes any light of valor left.
Under overcast skies I hear Him plead.
On my knees He takes my soul like a theft;
Awkward hands pray in silence ‘til they bleed.
My Father comforts my aching, lost soul;
And He assists in patching up the hole.