There is never enough time
And so much left to do
And all on someone’s dime
And never a strait way through.
There is never enough time
And always too much to do
And things don’t go your way
And the light can’t make it through.
There is never enough time
And always in the dark
When you just want to see
But can’t seem to make a spark.
Even here in the desert
The morning’s cool hangs full
And out there in the sagebrush
Is possibility.
The night has finally ended
And the sun come round again
Perhaps this day will differ
From all the others.
Someone has a rooster
Down the road a ways
It always feels the need to sing
Or so I tell myself.
But with the gentle morning
Comes another chance
And all that went before
May not come again.
Descent into that cold dark place
Deep beneath the waves
Brings all the fear I’ve ever known
Into my reality.
Looking down that dark dark field
At the hand reaching up
An angel beckoning me to come
An angel of death.
The cold is harsh this far below
And the pressure pushes in on me
All around there monsters be
Hidden in the dark.
Nothing in this life prepared
Nothing made me ready now
But here beneath the murky waves
I have entered in.
Into my own heart I went
Deep into the dark
All the demons swim around
Just out of sight.
The panic and the fear are fierce
The terror never been more real
Deep down in my own sad heart
I cannot feel the sun.
The boat we sail is long and fast
And makes good time in great storms
And all life’s questions are here at last
But they tend to be about these forms.
And these forms, the trouble is,
They are of the boat,
And we are in the ocean sea
And have to keep afloat.
So how do we? who want to know
Begin to map our quest?
When all the while we are at sea
Sailing to the west.
The things our hearts burn to know
Have this simple trouble here
They are the boat itself you see
And so you see we have this fear.
How can we, while afloat,
Make our queries count?
When we are out amidst the sea’s
Limitless fearful fount?
What is best today my friends?
On what should we embark?
In what dark corner should we move?
And light up with our spark?
What sad soul should we embrace?
And what tired friend should we support?
And what scared child should we protect?
And bring into our mighty fort.
The world is full of drowning souls
And hearts bleeding rivers red
Spirits broken on the ground
And flesh so truly dead.
How do we ourselves so frail
Carry others on?
And how do we ourselves so weak
Work to make them strong?
Here is the time of giants
Where swords will keep you safe
And maidens dance around great fires
To follow many wraiths.
The wizards plot in soaring spires
High above the land
And kings and queens around the earth
Are tiny grains of sand.
Here is the time of giants
Let heroes gather here
And make a stand for us all
Who tremble here in fear.
When you are in this little room
Do you see walls or prison bars?
When you are here to stay for good
Have you come home or are you trapped?
It’s funny all the things inside
That make us see the world around
And though we wish that we could hide
We can’t escape the things inside.
So on the day you find yourself
In the same place for some time
If you look around you for awhile
It may tell you what’s inside.
I remember that sparkle in your eye
It was undefinable; it was magic
I could always look inside
But you were the only one I knew who could do it too.
It’s hard when you feel all of their hurt
To see something good
And say something nice
I usually don’t; I just hurt with them.
I wonder if you avoid peoples eyes
I do.
You don’t usually look inside and get to see
That sparkle.
So I lied.
What’s it to you?
You never seem to care
Why get upset now?
Only the ones who care
Only they
Are hurt by such things.
You know you could just tell me you care
You could have
Could have a long time ago
Then maybe we wouldn’t be here
And you wouldn’t be hurt
And I wouldn’t be so surprised that you even noticed.
How is it that one does want?
And how is it that one finds life?
And how is it that one believes?
Down in this pit of grief and strife.
How is it that trust maintains?
When I can’t trust myself
And where is it, this dusty thing?
Hidden on some dusty shelf.
How do people feel that life
Is wholly still unfair?
How do people feel like that?
Breathing in this air.
What’s inside cannot be faked
And we have no control
What do you oh Lord and God
Seek from this poor soul?
Make in me what I cannot
Put in me this heart
Cause me to desire things
And I will have to start.
A Soul's Walk 