Reality of my weakness

If your out at the right time, you might catch me slinging sparks
Out here in the desert. That's just my way of wishing the night away. I really just want to draw in chalk in front of you doorway. To line your bedroom with salt to keep those darker things away from you. Those gates won't prevail, I swear it to be true, though the thought creeps into my mind often; you laying down to die, your breath finite and cool, and my petition remains irresolute.

On still, within the account of my inconsistencies, lies fear for your heart. A great lack of faith about the healing of those family wounds.

Despite the promises made to me. Promises made in red
I saw it again today, passing by in my tradition, in the repetition, he lied counter-current to the day by day routine that I settle for.
STILL HERE are those waters I am engulfed in;
of lies
medicine
and self-discovery? - indulgence in the damage that took a hold of me when he took a hold of you. Thought time would iron out those wrinkles but I haven't spoken to my own Blue-Birthking in months, that blue just seems to have turned gray.
Thought time would conquer that departure,
thought wisdom would be heard and understanding would have her voice heard because
I thought I was a greater being having stood upon my enemy,

Seems that's not the case. 

Seems to be a tease in the reality of my weakness

And thats where I'm at.

I'm asking my heart whether I can depend on it to surrender. Conviction won't roll off my mind, understanding has made her home here, and I know, I've heard her from within the whale. 

Just stand still the voice says, just take my hand and remember the seasons that came before

Before you tell me where my promises will land and how the naive will raise their hands

The peak of truth is my promises to you. Thats the reality of your weakness.

And there lies the mustard seed and there lies the mountain.