Mercy

Memories fade as softly sands shift further from the sea,
with every wave there ebbs away a portion of a dream.
The dunes, they rise: to their surprise they falter in the wind;
the wind, it dies, with broken ties, scattered by the trees.
And every thought brings all but naught a shining ray of sun
to pierce the darkened, broken heart from which my soul did run.

So I beg for time to clear my mind - to tear this shroud apart:
to rid the glaze upon my eyes; to guide me through the dark.
For every breath constricts the chests of slaves that cannot run
from tyrant hands that ill demand a grip upon my tongue.

Again, dear Time, I beg for mine: dispel what I've become;
release your burden from the air I draw into my lungs.