Shh.Breathe.Be quiet, and breathe.And in the silence, listenTo the whispers of the windThrough leaves.They speak the name ofA CaretakerWho looks upon each branch with favor.Breathe.Be quiet. Just be.And in the stillness, searchFor words inscribed in tiny lightsAbove the earth.They spell the name ofA CreatorWho spoke to make the whole of nature.Breathe.Be quiet. Believe.And in the moment, findThat peace that stills your soulAnd mind.You know the name ofA SaviorWhose loving kindness does not waver.
Pros Ton TheonIt's so hard to pen a simple song of praise.What can I say that hasn't been said a thousand different ways?All the songs that came before have rendered your wonders trite.So what can I say that would really express the way I feel tonight?Watching the storm I'm filled with a sense of... something, hard to explain...But still I feel compelled to say I see your beauty in the rain.All the words I like have lost their meaning through the years.Perhaps that's why I sometimes stop and worship you with tears.Tonight the earth is just like me, the raindrops as a song.All the words I've heard before. Tonight I sing along.
Snapshot of an EmotionOh Lazarus, LazarusI'm in agony, LazarusAnd it burns me more to see youAs I know that you can't reachBut I wish that you could onlyStretch an arm across this chasmTouch my tongue and give me peaceYet this gulf is fixed and endlessNo, this thirst is wholly hopelessFor neither you nor I can crossTo the other sideof this couch
It's All Here SomewhereYou make me wish I had saved my poemsAnd paintings, the pieces of my psycheThat made me who I was and half remember how to be,That I could show you how much betterHow much fuller I can liveAnd convince you that, together,We could find my way again.
Feelings are Unpleasant, I Prefer Not to Have ThemStrength is a cast incorrectly applied,Covering fractures that haven't been set,Cleaning the surface to placate the mind.Sepsis seeps in as I try to forget.Hope is a dose of a dangerous drug:Dulling the pain at the cost of control,Demanding addiction, it sings in the blood.Here's a syringe, so I shrug at the toll.Health is a heart in a hospital fridgePassed on to someone who's burned out his own,Given through death, so that someone might live.Call in the code. I will hand you the phone.
To Drink, I ThinkWe built a dam when the waters started rising,Called it a wall, and covered it with posters,Insisted there had never been a river,Trying our best to scare away the tourists.But wind and water won’t be stopped:They move and breathe and wear things down.Now see the cracks, the posters peeling,Stripping away, slowly revealingA trickle and rivulet, a ribbon, a stream,A spout, now a fountain with sparkling spray.We stand in the rainbows and open our mouthsTo drink or to drown? To drink or to drown?
Smile at the MoonLoose these chains that lock me here.Let me take my leave.I reach for the horizon,As if to clutch the sunrise,But my hands hold only air.If I could only go, maybeThe day would not slip through my fingers, maybeI could pluck the stars from the night, maybeI could spin the moon around and smile at the other side maybeI would grow wings, and maybeI already have themAnd can't use themBecause I'm shackled to the spot. And maybeI haven't tried And maybeIf I doThe chains will fall away.
March is HereSing me a song, little mocker,Sing me a song about spring.Lift up your head, ruffle your feathers,And flutter your white-striped wings.I'll sit on a bench, and you'll perch on the branch,And I'll trade you a story for seed.Sing about sunshine, sing about flowers,Tell me the mockingbird's creed.Tell me of bluebonnets, coating the hillsWith a carpet of proud, vibrant blooms -I'll tell you of traffic on I-35With rush hours starting at noon.I'll sing you a song about cold buzzing lights,Life sleepless and stressful and dull.Your chirping is silenced by our modern life,Where spring doesn't play much a role,Where hills are a nuisance and sun is a threat,Where bluebonnets get in the way.You perch on your branch and the people pass by,Too busy to care what you say.Mockingbird, please, don't you copy this song.It's an ugly industrial thing.Teach me to flutter and ruffle and perch.Teach me your songs about spring.