1. |
Time Is a Patient Man
03:35
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my dad sat me down on the kitchen sink
and told me life is but the dripping of a tap
well I watched a drop fall and it compelled me to think
oh the temporality of birth and collapse
as a child the world seemed so slow,
but wishing away my years didn’t help me to grow any faster
have I wasted my youth?
did the wonder in my eyes begin to dim when I learned the truth
that the sun does not rise
we just follow it around
perpetually at the same distance
gravity straps us to the ground
and I know I was born here, but it doesn’t feel like home
much less does this body feel like mine
I’m sure I just borrowed it
a shell for what’s inside
I was made for eternity yet inhabit time
and there is nothing new under the sun
everything ends where it has always begun
and though the light lays all thing bare
and discovery sits retired in his favourite chair
there’s something awfully beautiful about being found completely undone
like a dying man talks about his children
like Solomon in all his wisdom
can slip his lament like a noose around my neck
and then turn around and cut me loose
with the most beautiful love song in all of history
I should expect that I am writing
ramblings about things I am yet to comprehend
as if I was there in the beginning or like the way I pretend
to know about the kingdom and all its ins & outs
or why the flowers of the field are dressed without a doubt
in such evanescent beauty yet eclipse every king and throne
why are they so utterly meaningless?
where is their everlasting home?
well some say that diamonds are forever
oh, but I would beg to differ
because I knew a man who looked upon a lofty structure and said,
‘not but one stone will be left on top another’
not contingent on its radiance
both the gem & slate are brothers
and there is still nothing new under the sun
no song writ that hasn’t already been sung
and when it’s all said and done
we’ll be holding our hands in unison
hoping for a better tomorrow that might never come
but what if it does?
all those sleepless night will be made worthwhile in light of the son
well I’ve had separation anxiety for the last two thousand and sixteen years
and you said you’d be coming quickly,
but it’s not to my timing that your schedule adheres
so if you’ll make everything beautiful in it’s own time
well then it’s about time that
I stop wasting mine and get my priorities in line
oh God divine!
if you can hear just give me a sign
speak to me plainly because I’m so tired of trying to figure this all out
and a mirror dimly lit without a doubt
obscures my vision from seeing face to face
on this side of eternity give me grace
because all flesh is grass, but you will remain
Alpha, Omega forever the same
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2. |
Fearful & Wonderful
03:29
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you seem to remember songs
like you heard them before you were born
like you memorised them in the womb
before from its walls you were torn
and you came out singing
baby it’s no wonder why
from that first withdraw and release there’s no point trying to deny
that you’re a song bird, but you’re caged
by a lack of interpretation
everyone around you is an iron bar
and your sound gets lost in translation
but it’s more, more than simply not being understood
it’s the fact that every time you open you mouth
you’re faced with the terrifying possibility that somebody actually could
and what then?
what would you do with yourself?
you never liked playing hide and seek,
but however frightening it was for you to sit silently alone
in the dark of a cardboard box
we both know for you that the greatest fear was not in the hiding,
but in the being found
you’re a midnight sailboat, gallant yet wayward
eluding the watchful eye of a lighthouse
who’s sole purpose was to be your ever present coast guard,
but instead of guidance you see a fiery cyclops
and the more you duck and cover the closer your vessel comes to splinters
as you remain quiet as a church mouse
the paint gets thicker the less often you stir it
and as fatigue sets into your forearms
you being to wish the same thing you always do
that if you hadn’t dragged that tin out
from the dusty shelf in the back of your heart and cracked it open
you wouldn’t be so disappointed with yourself
but I just can’t take this anymore
I can’t bear to watch you recoil or relapse one more time
when I know your arthritic fingers were made to paint and to write
and you lungs to sing and scream
although right now they appear ready to collapse
but I know you’re voice, you’re a sound, you’re a dance, you’re a rhythm
and I’m sorry if anyone every told you otherwise,
but it’s just not true
and I’m willing to fight for you if you let me, if you let me
you think that you’re scared
well every monster with his claws in your back is terrified
every time you open your mouth or pick up a pen
they’re scared to death you’ll find out who you are and become it
well he’s jealous
you were given something that once belonged to him and he wants it back
that old werwolf
he’s got his fingers in your ears
to keep you from hearing your Fathers voice saying,
‘everything I put inside of you is beautiful, now release who you are’
we’re all listening quietly like statues in the dead of night
and as you purse your lips you let out something
that makes a pin drop sound like a hurricane,
but it’s enough
because in that razor sharp moment of clarity you cut yourself
and all the voices bleed out onto the floorboards
until you’re left with not one, but two
because you were never meant to sing alone
a duet rises in your heart
and your aortas hammer out a cadence to a fever pitch
until your lungs are swelling with so much love
that fear literally leaps out of your chest,
but you grab it by the neck and shatter the window frames as you proclaim,
‘I know who I am’
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3. |
A House Is Not a Home
05:05
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Sunlight pours in through the cracks of boarded up windows
illuminating my apparent lack of vision
I’m looking at the world through a key hole
and these days I draw my own narrow minded conclusions about
what I see and what I don’t,
but perspective is limited looking backwards through a telescope
and I fill in the blanks with presumption,
but that’s a multitude of unknowns left to personal interpretation
and I’m a clumsy architect
reconstructing the creator in the image of the creation
so I can poetically catalogue my limited experience
and evoke an emotional response the you hear it
organised beyond recognition
I could pass you in the street without a glance in your direction
because I’ve become so accustomed
with acknowledging only what fits within the four walls of my invention
and if these boundaries could speak
they’d say, ‘we’re exhausted from containing such profound immensity’,
but I reinforce them daily
and hammer a few more nails into the window frames for good measure
because most days you’re a talisman in my pocket
and I reach for you only when I want something or it’s convenient,
but neither produces anything but complacent regard for our relationship
if that’s what you can call it
it’s all tailor made relativity
it’s the longing for spiritual experience without the weight of accountability
and it’s relatively rampant in my perception
of a divinity that fits in the palm of my hand without opposition
but a mountain is still a mountain
irrespective of whether or not I choose to ascend it
like a word is still a word and it carries a meaning
not dependant on my level of comprehension or believing
when did my world become so small?
my universe is collapsing at the hand of an amateur
these mysteries are alluding to the inescapable
you’re not who I thought you were
and the subsequent possibility that I’ve had it all wrong
is equally as unnerving as the prospect of beginning again
deconstructing my lifelong limitations on everything I’m unable to control
because I’ve become so comfortable it’s disturbing
and I recognise my proclivity for apathy resurfacing
the instant my horizon expands unexpectedly
and necessitates a response of sincerity
sincerely I signed of every letter of our correspondence,
but I was only as genuine as the security
afforded by the distance they travelled
it wasn’t as far as I thought
you were conceptual at best now we’re staying face to face
and this changes everything!
you personify the discovery of all that I been missing
not an abstract collaboration of fragmented parts,
but holy and tangible with hands and a beating heart
abounding in empathy yet entirely unlike me
you’re the feeling of coming home to a place I’ve never been
the reflection of my daughter in the eyes of her father
the image of the invisible residing within another
now that I know I can’t go back
I’m in too deep for the ignorance required to stay here
forward motion compelled by the revelation that
you’re not who I thought you were
what a relief that I was mistaken
I’ve never been so proud to disappoint myself
but I admit that I grow complacent in my frailty
familiar patterns vie for attention in my mind
and then the questions come that have already been answered,
but I ask them just the same,
like ‘did you see me when I was breaking,
and do you hear me when I am speaking?’
I know you see me when I am bleeding
and I trust you hear me when I am speaking
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4. |
Unfathomable Sea
04:47
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unfathomable sea, could you please pull us together
would you kindly direct your currents and tides and draw each of us to each others sides
haven’t you heard of forever
our love is transient at best
because it’s on the precarious cliffs of pride and fear
that we attempt to build our nests
ineffable unity, you’re a foreign concept to the land-locked state of empire
and unrecognisable has become the sight
of the shorelines beckoning desire
we don’t know how to swim
we’ve forgotten the stokes that could help keep us afloat
maybe it’s because we’re too busy holding on to all we own
cutting the circulation to our limbs
surrender to me
surrender to the sea
we’re all just leaking vessels tossed to and fro
on every wave as we’re cast as lots
so let our fingers intertwine as the water wraps your arms around mine
and we’ll be free
to fall down into the depths of grace
the deeper I go the greater the chasm of unknowing becomes,
but it’s a liberating darkness to my intellect that my soul it welcomes
as sunshine floods my heart and face
could you please pull us together
we can brave the storms and whether or not you hold my hand
I’ll still grasp you tightly in my prayers
lets put our faith in the ocean
lets put our hope in forever
and hold fast to the mast of our love
as it keeps aloft the blustering sails of our family
they’re tattered and torn, but sewn together ever so tightly
forget your past and set your eyes above
surrender to me
surrender not to the seeing and believing faithless mindset
that says if it’s not visible then it’s fake
or at least a well kept secret
well this ship’s moving forward and as surely as breath fills the canvas
and our family’s propelled onward
it’s the wind I cannot see
so watch all our seeking vessels tossed to and fro
on every wave as we’re cast as lots
and let our fingers intertwine as the water wraps your arms around mine
and we’ll be free
but you never told me about the feather
you collected it from me on the beach that blissful day
when I gave up my rights to fly away
even when it gets messy and I have to sleep out on the deck
so our brothers can have a place to say
your hands are as tough as leather
weathered by the sea
and they held my escape loosely yet carefully to your chest
tender and soft, but still held
but I couldn’t tear away if I tried
and by the time I realised that by choosing my friends lives over mine
the more alive the more I died
I’d still had my wings this entire time
so come lets build our nest in the cliffs
still unsafe, but oh so good
drawing us together like the many sticks and twine and pain and ecstasy and
hopefully the sea takes us all
though we are drops oh so small
but I know there’s rest on the oceans bed
so lets cling to this anchor of abandoned trust
and ride this one way elevator to the bottom
and I swear there’ll be a place to lay down you weary head
surrender to me
say your goodbyes to the surface
we won’t be coming up for air for a while
you see I’ve found a home in the sea
and sinking’s the only thing on my mind these days
I’ve even fashioned a millstone for a necklace
you see we’re all just leaking vessels tossed to and fro
on every wave as we’re cast as lots
so let our fingers intertwine as the water wraps your arms around mine
and we’ll be fine
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5. |
Inheritance
04:03
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my youth was cast away like a broken ash tray
over used and underpaid
where disillusioned men extinguish the hopes of those more optimistic than them
and there’s a bloodline of generational sin
in need of a transfusion, but where to begin?
we transpose our pessimism into rhetoric and we call it wisdom
and we think we’re safe as the houses that we’ve built around our hearts
our heads keep looking for an alternative to the monotony
to which we’ve bound ourselves haphazardly in matrimony
we need new verbs to displace the language that we’ve learned,
but my tongue can’t seem to formulate
a response that doesn’t somehow relate to
hope deferred or the wilderness of covenant forgot
can I remember what I’ve lost?
we hung our harps upon the poplars and wept beside the river bank
in all my technicolour dreams I can’t unseen the things I’ve seen
amidst captivity our native songs seem foreign thanks
remind us refugees of our redemptive melody
and a fog descends on the valley of possibility
and I’m left peering into mystery once again
oh what I wouldn’t give for a little clarity,
but foreign currency can’t possibly afford such luxuries, but still
I hear my name on the wind
I taste the salt in the air
somewhere beyond the unknown deep in the marrow of my bones
lies an inheritance I cannot explain
a birthright within my veins
but I’m like a sea captain trying to recollect a horizon from his youth,
but the water and sky blur indistinguishably at the point of convergence
and truth be told I’ve been adrift on open ocean for so long
I might not recognise the land from which I came
we hung our harps upon the poplars and wept beside the river bank
in all my technicolour dreams I can’t unseen the things I’ve seen
amidst captivity our native songs seem foreign thanks
remind us refugees of our redemptive melody
we laid our voices in the dust
our tongues of fire swallowed up
for all the maps that I have seen I can’t get back to where I’ve been
amidst uncertainty we’re colonised by fear of the unknown
grant us the courage and faith to find our way back home
and the branches of this family tree are severed
dismembered limbs stacked on the backs of each other
we’re awkwardly fumbling with unfamiliar hands
devoid of the strength required to put us back together
we were once known as lovers
ablaze with potential now we’re smouldering ash
have mercy on this restless soul
delivery me from the obscurity of exile and make me whole
when I close my eyes I dream of mountains that I’ve never climbed,
but they’re strangely nostalgic and I think I understand why
because they were made to be moved
like hope was made to be fulfilled
like impossible got stripped from my vocabulary at will
and I think it’s high time we embraced the risk of believing
because surviving is not the same as living
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6. |
Take Heart
04:36
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I’ve been hammering nails into this coffin
the same way I’ve been hammering these doubts into my head
hoping each one would be the last so I can start living at last,
but it’s hard to live when you keep
looking over your shoulder trying to outrun your past
‘what’s done is done’, I tell myself
my splintered hands agree,
but each time I try to bury it the inconsistencies are all too clear
between action and conviction
between laying my cards on the table and the longing to keep them hidden
it’s a gamble that’s for sure
no-one said that it would be easy,
but I think I’ve grossly underestimated the challenge of vulnerability
I want to bare my chest and let you in,
but my ribs are working against me
like boney fingers restricting my capacity
to beat down these walls I’ve build so well
you see I’m an expert at liberty until it costs me something
‘take heart’, I hear your words through the discord of unbelief,
but I keep wresting with ghosts that I thought were dead
dear saviour, pilot me!
‘fear not, I have overcome’, your promise still ringing in my ears,
but does it still hold true, I’ve got to know
is your faithfulness still independent of my own?
because I could use some reassurance now
that my regrets are stirring underground
I’ve been digging up graves in my sleep
the same way I’ve been digging up old versions of myself
that I swore I’d laid to rest
and although I detest their resurgence it comes as no surprise
aren’t we all creatures of habit?
I subconsciously reanimate every fault that you’ve forgiven
each time I turn away from trusting that it is finished
I want ambiguity, but I’m given absolution
what’s done is done despite my incessant
questioning the goodness of God has become my expertise
like I’ve obtained omnipotence, but in reality
humility eludes the defensive,
but the broken and contrite will not be left empty
but I can’t deny that the gravity
of unrestrained disclosure terrifies me completely
and when I imagine that tree, bloodstained
I can’t help but think it was meant for me
but the ink has dried, the concrete’s been set, the debt fulfilled
the new dawn has broken and the word has been spoken
the court adjourned, the war has been won
and the new creation born into victorious freedom
and you said,
‘take heart’, I hear your words through the distance I’ve self imposed,
but I keep looking for an escape that I don’t need
make steadfast these wonderings!
‘fear not, I have overcome’, your promise I cannot forget
and all my excuses dissolve in the flood of acceptance I could never expect
I see your body rent in two
still I can’t give an honest answer to a simple ‘how are you?’
the blood flows, I hold my breath
teach me transparency while I still have time left
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7. |
Hands to the Plough
03:54
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we’re all looking for magic bullets to problems as old as time
whether it’s a presidential candidate or the latest pharmaceutical line
we want the once and done solution
typical infomercial education,
but what more could be expected from a generation raised by the television
work smart not hard my son
we’ve been telling our kids the same for years,
but a piece of paper can’t teach you the indispensable
value of blood, sweat and tears
‘no guts, no glory’ as my old man used to always say
the slogan emblazoned on his favourite sweater
as he rode his bicycle to work in the rain
and yeah I still look up to him though I’ve got my own kid these days
because I’ve been realising that love isn’t a fleeting passion,
but a choice you make everyday
and it’s beautiful and alive and exploding with wonder,
but it’s still a choice
a conscious act of will not the knee jerk reactions of desire
but we’re all looking for shortcuts to improve our quality of living
minimal effort for maximum reward,
but the end result is disconcerting
because when you’re handed the finished product
you can’t appreciate its worth
and often learning something the hard way
is the only way that respect is earned
but when the world is at your fingertips love is reduced to digital invention
we order sex like fast food taking pleasure rather than giving affection
personalised self gratification
objectifying sacred innocence,
but when the screen goes blank and the bed is empty
you’re left addicted and impotent
we can’t microwave a remedy for the disenchantment that’s in our hearts
it may have the appearance of being satisfying,
but inside it’s frozen solid with the hollow watermark of greed
impatient consumeristic lust
indulging temporary fulfilment
our ancestors would be disgusted
and believe me I know the easy way out
looks pretty damn good sometimes, but it’s never worth it
there’s nothing glamorous about the narrow road
no outward attraction to allure the traveller
you can’t sugar-coat long suffering
it’s a humble path for sacrificial lovers
what else could motive such an expression of countercultural resistance
but for the joy of laying down your life
and in the surrender somehow finding it
oh adulterous convenience!
I’ve slipped between your sheets too many times to recall,
but just because you’re accessible
doesn’t make you seductions any less detrimental
I’m running back to my first love
counterfeits will no longer suffice
I regard every alternative as worthless
for the sake of communion no matter the price
I rather endure a thousand years of back-breaking labour by your side
than abide in affluence under the illusion
that I’m not absent from your presence
because your nearness is my good
for what does a man profit if he gains the whole world yet forfeits his soul,
but as for me I choose intimacy over security
your nearness is my good
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8. |
Anchor
04:36
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prairie dust in my lungs
another unmarked highway straight as the skyline
black hills like ink I spilled writing this all down
in my mind another mountain range now resides
I lost sight of the woods
another memory venerated in the sun that beats down on my back
borne against the wind
I am the dust of earth and I exhale the man I wish I’d been
and the distance between where I am and want to be
seems to lengthen every time I think that I’ve finally arrived
recurrent white lines stitch the road together for miles on end
as if in an attempt to achieve some level of unity despite its opposing directions
some compromise
but we adhere religiously to our respective sides
and bound by the laws of this world we pass each other by
so close yet so far
we exist in perpetual parallels
well maybe I’m looking for a head on collision
because right now my destination eludes direction
and every hitchhiker begs my attention with a cardboard sign
they’re ever so compelling
take us here, take us anywhere
we’ve been on the highway so long even the recollection of solidarity is gone,
but I keep pressing on and pressing on and pressing on
I’ve got to find my mountains and beyond that the sea
but no boat waits for me in which to traverse ardently across the ocean
and fall off the edge of the map of my dissatisfaction
these hands will build anything they set their mind to
and the woods will provide all I need for a vessel
to escape the journey and grasp finality
finally I can see the forest for the trees and you’d think that I’d be pleased,
but no matter how much timber I fell
I can’t carry but one trunk down the mountainside alone
and it’s just as well I didn’t pick up any hitchhikers on the highway
because then I might actually have to share the load
and by the way I’ve never been that great at trusting people,
but I’m breaking that today
so brother, sister if you’re within earshot
put aside your indifference and I’ll spit my guts
you see I’ve come to believe that we need each other now more than ever
we need vulnerability in the face of dissemination
we need a resurrection in the lost art of conversation
and if we’re speaking candidly then this is for the record
we are a children of privilege squandering our blessing
honestly we’ve all been through the wars
this is for those brave enough to share their story
for those trying to let go or hold fast in the storm
and the rest of us caught in the tension
this is for the sorrow I can’t stitch back together
and this is for the kind of pain that lasts forever
this is for the reasons I cannot reconcile
and this is for redemption the night I lost my child
there’s an Anchor inside my heart
it holds true every beat is for you son
and at the bottom of the sea neath every high and lofty gail
I know you’re waiting for me
on every dusty road from desert to shoreline
hope keeps me grounded though I’m not quite sure why
in my frailty I fulfil my design
complete dependency on a fathers love for his child
we were all lost and broken
till we found your loving arms
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9. |
Solstice
04:26
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wash away all my stains
no matter the intention with which they were made
all my self perfections look up from the gutter at that which they could not attain
stars are high in the night sky
far am I from being justified
in my dreams I see the dawn
in my side I feel the flesh in torn
in my pride I’m suffering for what’s already done
why do I search for the living among the dead?
I know that tomb is empty, but I keep going back
as if to offer some assistance to the blood that was shed,
but the simple gospel could do without being hijacked
by religious ambition; my attempts to complicate
a beautiful exchange into an encyclopedia of do’s and don’ts to which I’ll never measure up,
but I got everything I don’t deserve all at once
it has nothing to do with me, but I confuse my identity and somehow think that I’ve qualified to be loved or called your son,
but a birthright is earned no more than it’s won
I find my breath within your lungs
I lose my crippling fear in your arms
I exist only because of you
I am that I am merely a shadow projected by the truth
incorruptible, unobtainable, but somehow you make room for me at your table
your mercies renewed at the breaking of day
no matter how frequently I try to remove the clay from the hands of the potter
I make a mess of myself without fail
you think I would’ve learnt my lesson by now, but still
you patiently beckon me to come away with you
and I relinquish my self-sufficiency and let your voice define me
shortest day in the year
the rotation of the earth is made perfectly clear
seasons shift, wax and wane
in the midst of change you’re the constant that remains the same
sun hangs low in the noon sky
though it’s cold I know you’re made of fire
on my neck the hair is raised
on my mind are always warmer days
in the light of your smile I come undone
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10. |
Thief in the Night
04:49
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I used to lie awake at night praying for a car to drive by
in order to break the silence swallowing my bedroom whole
and convince me that the rapture hadn’t come and I’d been left behind
because surely if someone was out driving this late at night
then there must be at least one more sunrise left in this world
before the trumpet sounds and signals the commencement of its demise
but that passing vehicle offered only momentary consolidation
as I anxiously pulled my covers up over my eyes
and although that was sixteen years ago I still catch myself looking up to the sky
and trying to imagine what it will be like to see it rolled up as a scroll
the horizon folded in on itself
the light of the noon day sun eclipsed by a radiance too majestic to behold
and I think in our own way we’re all either afraid of being abandoned and alone
like the kid whose parent forgot to pick them up from school
or being confronted and exposed so unequivocally
that we’ve nowhere left to run and hide from our transgressions suddenly visible
but if there’s no orphans or criminals in your kingdom
then why does neglect or punishment feel like an ever impending reality for so many?
does it break you heart to look upon that which you fashioned with your two hands
reject your advances out of disappointment or fear of reprimand?
but the glass is cracked in this kaleidoscope with which I perceive my surroundings
my fractured experience projected onto the canvas I paint you in to
distorted representation superimposed by the wounds that haven’t quite healed,
but I brush it off like it’s no big deal
because we’re lonely, but we don’t want to be needy
and we’re desperate to feel the embrace of love unconditional despite our flaws,
but we don’t want to be judged
so standing precariously with toes curled over the edge of the diving board
we’re captivated by the deep, but too apprehensive to take the plunge
teetering between consciousness and sleep
is this what it means to be lukewarm
to know the words, but refuse to speak?
I don’t want to be a stranger at your gate
the confession of my lips a million miles away from the interactions of my hands
I want to be found faithful on our wedding day
because everyone from conspiracy theorists to the calendars of ancient civilisations to street corner preachers
are placing bets on the hour at which the apocalypse will come
well I see it around every corner anyway
so what’s the difference who’s right or wrong?
because whenever I pass by a church yard and the clock strikes its eleventh hour
sending ravens scattering from the bell tower
I think I see the slightest rumbling at the feet of tombstones
and press my ear to the ground in anticipation for the groaning of creation
decaying bones aching to be liberated from their prison
“It won’t be long now” I whisper into the dirt to whoever’s listening
because one way or another we’re all coming up out of the grave
an the admission of every tongue and humble posture will be the same
but I want to recognise the voice that’s beckoning from chariots of fire
because I’ve cultivated a fellowship behind closed doors of burning desire
a love that cannot be quenched,
but there are days when I feel like a solitary match
trying to stay lit in the midst of a hurricane
my resolve put to the test
because I know that your eyes are searching to and fro across this earth
for lanterns blazing brightly at twilight with enough fuel to last till morning
welcoming their long awaited thief in the night
I don’t want to be a stranger at your gate
the confession of my lips a million miles away from the interactions of my hands
I want to be found faithful on our wedding day
I don’t want to be caught asleep in the garden
abdicating my mission of simple obedience
hastening the day of your return
I want to mourn for the bridegroom with my life
I want to be found faithful on our wedding day
I want to mourn for the bridegroom with my life
|
Captain Rostrevor, UK
Wordsmith & sojourner.
Everyone has a story.
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