Constantly running
From tragedy's hallowed porch
The distance is all but a blur
With the eyes turned backwards
No goal was ever in sight
Just a forlorn starting line
Glory's distant shores
Tend to be a memory
...a fleeting one at best
Feeding on the dirge
Feeling unworthy of the flute
Joy seems so much farther beyond
Anything that could be grasped
Solitude's noose is in the corner
Next to the ash of a million bridges
Never wanting to call attention
So a trophy case was built
Be still My child
May these arms carry you
The fractured legs
Will never escape disfunction
Hush my beloved
And let My hope arise
In the heart of my children
I will consume the gaze
A time will come for everything
Everything in its place
Even you believe ot or not
Do not scorn my grace
The love beats stronger
Than your rusted shell
Completion will run its course
Your vision should never be hell
In the stillness of silence
My breath will overcome
Soothing the wounded wings
My strength will take you home
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3 comments:
i've got a good basement, then, yes?
: )
si
si! mi casa es su casa... for the most part. i like random artists hanging out in my basement. it makes me happy.
just not when it's weird (i.e. anytime my basement ceases to be "entertainment area" and proceeds into "living space").
hey, welcome back! i saw you tonight at the PR. it was so brief i thought i made it up. then darin ran into me and said "hey, have you seen barclay? i just left a note with his stuff..." and then i knew i wasn't all that crazy. unless both of us were completely out of our minds.
which is distinctly possible.
i like leaving you ridiculously long comments. i don't know why. it just seems appropriate.
bless you.
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