i am dissatisfied

I stood atop a mountain high and cold,
Like worshipping from a cathedral spire,
But my God comes from a more jagged mold;
His bones are hardened with a fiercer fire.

I cried out to the wind: "Stay with me here,
For I have no more strength or words or love,
This chill corrodes my sight and feeds my fear,
The earth will choke me; carry me above."

A rift lanced through the heavens, yawning wide,
I pondered words: to act, to mourn, to live,
Then called a challenge to the great divide;
I asked, "How much would He agree to give?"

For dreams are never filled with more than grace;
I'd rather lie and watch your sleeping face.