The cracks in my armor leak the dust of my blood, eroded away by the work that I have done. The ashes of my hair drift in the breeze, wafting over my dehydrated soul that tried so hard to make her whole; while the skin from the fingers fell out the holes worn into my gloves after so many times of raising her up. From the soles of the feet worn smooth from the stress delivered, holding and carrying above the ground while she rested, this woman to whom my life has been bound. Proud and strong and with faith borne of my Lord, the right things got done and now I can recover strength to endure until my time has come!
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How beautiful it sounds. .
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Beautiful!
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