I played a game of tag with the God of Love,
Chasing naked things--
In a naked world,
Where naked boys play with naked girls.
I knew as the ocean knows its blue,
That I never really wanted to find You.
Because after all,
It was I to be made anew.
So fate sent me fishing
And I reeled in years of disillusionment
In the form of tears.
But soon, I bit back,
I jousted with strength
And spent the days with a shrink.
I turned corners where your face could be,
to reassure 'twas just me.
Soon darkness was the only light I could see.
So I stepped back
And shielded mon corps from attack.
But there was no more fire
And my skin was brighter.
There You were, in all places I wasn't looking.
As I breathed in,
You came out.
But I still stand motionless,
In a melancholy daze.
Because I tagged you back
And you haven't called my name.

Ocean, she escapes me.
And God, he forsakes me.

Numbers, letters counting blocks--
With no breeze, my body slowly rocks--
With Self and Suchness, but no Love.

An animal, she breaks me down--
With no heart amid her thorny crown.
I just wanted joy and to be heard,
But the court has spoken and been adjourned.

I lusted for smiles,
And a heart untiring.
Yet my pack only held so much,
And I had no way of making room for such.

To hide is to never tell
Of the magician who taught me the spell.
But I will say this
To the soul without bliss --
You can take away the maildrop,
But I can still seal the envelopes.

C'est La Vie. September 23.

In three beats times two,
My wings, they grew and grew,
Jutting forth feathers -
Whose home are my limbs.
With golden tips,
I fingered the sky;
No soil could be greater than the mighty oxygen above.
Steady pace was fly,
And fly some more.
Against all odds,
Ten thousand parachutes waged war.

Man stopped by one day,
To tell me he could fashion air,
And that to breathe-
The sky could no longer fare.
Through toil and strife,
I bled-
So as he plucked my feathers-
I could be light,
And continue,
On my glorious flight.

September the Tenth

The lord hath filleth my cup today!

I recognize my happiness as my God. God permeates through my bloodstream and springs my heart to life.

ALIVE!
ALIVE!
I AM
ALIVE !


God, you are so sweet to my heart. Thank you for the seasons, the rhythms of the sky and the hue that so stains my eye. I adore you. Thank you for this love. You shine so that I may so the same. You grant me life when death is trending. You are, you are and I'm sorry for ever denying you in the wake of my folly. I breathe for you, God in Heaven. Because you are in the air around me. I do not know why I love you so, I just do. It is in my makeup, it is natural intuition. And I want to shout it in the gallows of the darkest where my heart once hung, that you, my God, are.

July the 29th

The day I went home.

If there is one thing the West taught me - it is that the home of a wanderer is all places. I exist within my own dreams and wherever those take me is my home. For now, home is origin. Home is in the middle of the coordinate plane so that I have an entire four quadrants to plan around.

Birds belong in the sky; they are always traveling until they find home. They have many homes. They make home. Home does not make them.

I am free from my blackest demons and everything is okay. It just took . . . time.

It is simply astounding how sound affects the human heart. How I feel alive with Band of Horses. It is calling to start new, to become all that is inside. I believe that through that - all things come. I've been so consumed with relations, too consumed. I am ready for things that do not exist so I chase them.

All this time I've just needed to detach and become the chase, not the chasing.

Stillness is just an awful state when it has been reached due to a refusal to slow down.

[Footnote] I am going to do that.

Children line up in the street
Throw their arms out to beg
For mercy soft and sweet
Do you ever see them?
Or stop to hear them cry?

I know how many knives
It took to color their eyes
And their parents who were pilgrims to a drug induced demise

Have you ever felt the things around you?
Ever seen them talk?

I know how many stories they can't ever tell
Crevice to corner and it spells "selfish"

You're all just sinners against your own religion
Waiting for more friction

Home - is the main domain of inspiration. Where creation occurs the most and constantly replenishes itself.

House - is residence. A place. The built structure in which its' inhabitants do nothing more than that.

Family - is a unit of symbiotic relations and like-minded souls. A system of equations that eventually equal balance.

Politics - is a government that is accepted by a demographic.

Life - is a release of thought into action. An experimentation.

Death - is a stop-motion collapse to immobility. A blackness that swallows and constantly stifles.

Existence is everything.

[are] [is]

Both symbolize existence


*existence * -- The way we exist is the matter around us.
***********

existence -- Freedom

Freedom - is a point where too much existence is remedied; when none of the aforementioned concepts can be present and new ones must be found. Freedom is just existing.

Love - is the capacity to compassionately give. Love pardons death, life and all things. Love is sight. But sight is not love.

Sight - is vigilance of truth. But truth is not sight.

Truth - is in the self. But the self is not truth.

The self - is a no-thing but rather all things. Self contains to its' discretion. Self dictates, deliberates and seeks. The self is where we find unity.

July the 16.

It is a strange thing when one becomes cognizant of all that has gone wrong -- the error of man. it is a self-righteousness to assume one can know such in any case.

Man faltered when his hands became clean for more than just supper. When they slowly started to see less molecules of dirt. When they began spending more time resting upon tightly bound atoms of a solid than time feeling the loose composure of a liquid running through their crevices like a sieve.

One day man lost his identity to wear business casual attire. One day he had a pool to return home to and a furnished home . . . to do nothing but exist in.

Do we blame to British for being so surface?

But these things were never supposed to occur.

We weren't supposed to have.

We were to do. And be.

July the 14th

A no-thingness passes over the woods, ensued by stillness so encapsulating. The animals are all silent as the fawn lays head to rest and nose to chest. In this fetal repose, solace sings it to sleep. There is love, and love is real. Mountains bow to a king greater than flesh -- and spew out the glory for me. and you. and everyone we know.

I vow never to fall in love in this life.

Goodnight, God in heaven.

I am offering my greatest condolences to all of the gods I've ever hurt
Sliced open my breast
And bled for this eternal test
Of finding self in jest

Begging to know
What my heart has ever sinned against
In order to garner this nothingness

I walked you here
Laid you out by the pool so you could breathe
Fixed my blemishes and gave you water

But you took my god
Oh, you robbed me clean
And my heart -- it beckons sweetly
For a love to save it's dull, dark taste

I remember all of those Sundays
And Mondays
After we rose our hands
To the Good One we loved

We'd shout like villagers
As if to seek some escape
But the blue and silver lines
All closed down our brains

And we trekked back to the land of soot and stone
Where our King was waiting on his throne

Gave our boy the news
Sent him weeping as we sang the blues

Oh, apologetic rain
Drenched our souls 'til we drowned

Allelujah, as we tried to spin back around
With our feet stained by the ground

June the Fifth. The end.

I have long thought about this moment, these feelings and these words. But I never know where to start. Now especially, I am numb. I am numbed by my own fighting. My own desire, my own hope. I cannot make any sense. But I do not fall into that generic category of mutually accepted ideals.

This year -- I became alright with that.

June the Seventh
Finality.

I wish more than anything that I could fill this with every single conclusion I have reached by way of a revelation. Of course, I cannot do that. I can only report on my current state and proceed to burn some shit to the ground.

So, I guess I'm going to do that.

I am at a standstill that the conclusion of this entry will mark the end of. I am an impermeable entity that has surrendered all feelings of nostalgia to these pages forever. I am in love. And I fight for that love daily. I have cast all classification away and embraced all philosophy and religion for their individual importances. But above all else, I am not yet free. I am stifled and oppressed. I'm just ready to go.

But before I can go I have to seal this shut. I have to say goodbye to that summer. I have to say goodbye to the summer before it. I have to take all of it and understand that it was never where I belonged. I have to wake up and "tomorrow, we start new."

There is only one anomaly I can address. There aren't any more these feelings belong to.

There is only one that holds me back.

Only one that this season unrightfully belongs to.

Only one in which is everything.

Joshua Dylan Carroll,

Quite simply you are the foundation of everything beautiful within me. You showed me so much while I did so little. You brought me life and joy. You started a revolution within my heart of hearts.

You taught me of love and the fight it endures. You showed me light in things society deems are not right. You helped me enough to give me the power to transcend you now.

Do you remember the way the light used to filter into your house that summer?

Do you remember the days we danced?

Dear child, you have broken me and I must go now. I have words for you but they dwell in my dreams.

At the fear of them forever remaining I am writing this to you now. I am not certain of whether you will ever read this.

But I know that I want to burn you.

So here it is; here is the fire.

You left me, Dylan Carroll, to suffer a winter as dark as the leather jacket you wore that night. You stabbed at me vaguely as I backed away from you and said, "Fuck you. I hate you."

The eyes with which you looked at mine killed me. They killed my prospects and they killed Anabelle. You gave me this thing inside of my ribs that I can only call God . . . or Anabelle. She is who I find and she is who I am. She shapeshifts and gives me purpose.

You sent me to put pills in my body and created a fury of worthlessness. You tickled my heart and I had nightmares of you. You gave me less as you told me more. Frankly, you abandoned me and tried to deem it otherwise.

Do you remember whos' hand you held when you jumped off that dock?

Do you remember the day you learned to swim?

Do you remember The Cafe and Minutes and Trapezoid?

You helped me chase the streets with you but now I have found my own. I must bring myself to take SS Cambridge and these goddamn brakelights to your forehead and knock you out forever.

Dylan, you broke me. You brought me to the stars and then you broke me. This journal starts with you and tonight it ends with you.

I can believe I ever loved you because you are so beautiful. You radiate and you will go so far.

You are my favorite bastard because I know why you did this.

I want you to have peace and a colorful heart. I hope that wherever your own two feet take you can facilitate you luminosity. Do not sell yourself short by staying here.

Please Dylan, go forth into the infinite abyss and always know that you changed my fucking world.

I will make all the right reasons to fuck it up.

Goodbye, Space Cadet.
Goodbye, Leon.

It will not ever be as much as I do.

May 28th.

I will be June so soon.
How can I do that?
How can I just go forth?

I am terrified to feel so free. Just terrified to see the sun and color my eyes darker. There is no reason and no rhyme. I just feel a lot more this time.

One month ago, my life began. Thank you.

I'm gonna say goodbye
And never ever tell why
Because I, oh I, will do this thing and fly

May 26th.

I walk around now detached from my colleagues. But yet I still cannot hold my head up. My neck drops down and stares at my feet. I guess it's to remind me that I am moving. Going somewhere.

This is not outlook -- this is inlook. I just see and you do not. But man, brother and sister, you are not of my worry. You do not justify me and I do not justify you. We are all our own ego. We are all clay. I cannot condemn you for your mold, but I may challenge. I may reap vengeance on those who have oppressed me. I may call out those who lead silent lives of surface. They haven't any dignity to stake anyway.

Why are we all the bastards and bitches of a systematic equation in which we equal nothing? Why do we submit? I was born to speak on behalf of those who have not a voice.

I am too fast and too much for this building. I run whilst others trod. My love is stifled and my heart becomes blackened.

Sufjan sigh.

I have to save some for June. This is the hardest part.

Nostalgia. She is an enemy.

May 25th

Anabelle came out to play today. She plagues my evening as I watch her play a piano. The light of the moon is filtering in through the crevices created by the blinds. It is almost too much light to derive from the moon . . . but it is moon and only moon. My heart swells and stretches not far enough to reach my eyes. I am at peace with the war around me . . . and drawn into the belligerence within me. I killed you, I killed all of you. But I forgot to take your bodies to the morgue and they are closed this late. So your dead carcasses, they rot before my irises and haunt me still. But ah, oh children, you are only ghost and I have come to abhor you more than most.

You take the waves and create a current so adherent to your dead spirit. There is so much blood in the water now it hurts to swim. I called on the Lord to heal the hope that was slain. Alas, he gave me some rain. But my heart was all in vain. I just never wanted to look like that again.

Fight on one with the sun. Fight on.

You're it.

May 24th

I changed my mind again.

Anabelle only surfaces when she desires.

I cannot force that.

--

Man, you do these things
My bretheren you are so foolish
Where did your mother go so wrong?
To make you see an answer in blindness
Walk and defeat
In the endless summer heat
Fight oh, all ye
Gain access to a kingdom of counterfeit glee
Children, hide from your mothers and always keep from your fathers
Make your own way
Man, you do these things

Heat. May 22nd.

I've gotta be honest, doing this is hard. So hard. Because I know that pretty soon these pages will expire and I will have to start new. It will be so hard to write into June and knock all of these trophies off of the wall and win some more. It will be so hard to kill what once kept me so alive. It will be so hard to walk into the summer with different eyes.

--

In March of 2008 an entity I call Anabelle was born. She will forever haunt me.

I will fill the proceeding pages trying to articulate who she is.

Until June . . .

May the Fourteenth - Merciless

There once was a fawn of the woods of Montery. The fawn would leap and soar through the trees creating a sound of fury and vigor for all the woods to hear. All loved the fawn and many flocked to its' home in times of strife. The fawn was wise beyond its' years with all of its' grace and beauty. Those who came in contact with the fawn began to see something bigger, something grand. The woods began to take on new colors, shapes and sounds. The amber leaves contrasted with the blue skies and the sun shone brightly on the branches of every tree. Until January 1979 when everything turned black like the ask from the fire that now plagued the mothers' woods. All of the creatures began to scatter and flee from the woods that had once been so beautiful. All but the fawn. The fawn stayed behind to face the wrath and save the woods. So it took on the turmoil of being ablaze and wrestled through the trees to try to attack the source of all the chaos. Eventually, the fire sufficed, but the fawn was not well. The smoke had begun to coat its' lungs and soon the fawn could barely breathe. No one was around to. Not an animal had come back to the woods. So the fawn fought once more and stood on all fours. As it's body rose, its' eyes revealed an unmistakable green hue. As the fawn gazed upon it' dear, kindred woods, it let out a roar of triumph. And began to find its' way back home.

--

There is a simplicity in being healed. We are all broken and know nothing more than where home is.

So --
we fight.

So --
we find our way back.

And that's really all.

12. May.

Would the trees be angry with us if they saw how broken we let ourselves become? Does God still love us even though we are monotonous? How do we swim when we cannot float? But to question our own logic is crude. We are infallible, yes?

No.
No.
Never.

We all know nothing.

As Soon As She Was Born MAY ELEVEN

It is inevitable to bleed this morning. I would still be brimming with the nightmares of the night. It's just inevitable this would happen to my sight. But we are all just living in tomorrow's yesterday.

--

I am here -- in the place where my nightmares dwell. I have to write this off. I fucking hate your weak pelt. You are a miniscule entity in a sea of my God. Live out your faith, you filthy unclean monster. I see where you are blind and I very well may lose my mind. I hate all of you. Thou shalt escape. Thou shalt escape. Do you see the things you do? Do you see the weakness in your gait? I can barely breathe because you are suffocating. You are dangerous. I know things you will never see. I was born red because you will not ever bleed. I am the only blood form your veins.

What the fuck am I saying? When now I should be praying. Praying that your maker would clean your feet so the tread marks on my back might fade.

Well yesterday I let my hips bleed. And today I am freed.

Communication nation ain't no one time sensation.

BLEED. Because you were bled for.

Ma coeur, she breaks and takes and mistakes. Where you lack answers I bear action. The stars could not gleam bright enough to blind me of your guise. I see it and with it may come demise. Why oh, why don't you see the color of my eyes? Green she burns through my skull. I cannot make the hot summer cum I knew so well. Because the tide it did swell. And in it you went, 747. "God my God, where have you been?" How much more must I consume until I am full? How many places will the dark knight go? Nonsense. it is all nonsense.

Books. I need books.

SHAPES ARE INSIDE OF US

They are bones. They are building blocks. They make us. Mine are all jagged, some may be elegant. To make them all adjectives seems quite useless though.

Are adjectives irrelevant? Are we all so the same?

Begging such falsities seems absurd. But I like the absurd.

I am bad at this, but that's really alright.

Why father, Timothy London, are you so far?

My heart hath entered this cycle. And I doth breaketh to be free.

May Ten. Oh. May Ten.

I want to love all of you. I want to learn to transcend my lacking and start giving. Freedom is only limited by my intent. I can. I will.

There are so many beautiful ones to balance out the black stones. I want to run to them and go. Just go. These chemicals will not take me there. Sleep will motivate me. Dreams, just dreams, will motivate me.

God. You are big and bright and came tonight.

Hallelujah. You are in my bones.

May the 9th - The Headhache

So, I am exhausted. My bones jut out of my insides to show me that thy are split. I cannot fix this without breaking more, because to fix is to fight when you are Brittney White. I am so close, though. So close to breaking free forever. My ligaments must try to stretch just once more and I will have it. I will have the sun. I will have harmony. I will have peace. To become a number is to lose identity -- but I will so that I may prove them all wrong.

I think that I am in love with the most dangerous breath of life I have ever taken.

April 26th Means an End

You fell off the face of the earth yesterday because you weren't ever in it. We were in space. We were in space. But I came back to earth to a fox in my woods. He is pensive and I am null.

You do not exist. You are not here with me.

I may sleep and dream at the same time now.

Aquatic Case Studies of January 29th

Case Study # 1 - The River

In contrast with its cousin, the lake, the river is vast and merciless. It sweeps the particles caught within its' hydrogen and oxygen atoms in a robust, commanding fashion. Swaying in a menacing partnership with the wind, it juts forth and makes no effort to look back. Black, cold and endless as the night is the current finally created. There is no mercy. Only pain.

Case Study #2 - The Lake

Salmon flesh and still, green eyes. The lake is a reminder of the attainable peace life has to offer. Open for contemplation and ever reflective, waiting for companions who've heartbeats. The son of Merriam-Webster, the lake births creative freedom and yields adequate room in which to add to its colors.

Case Study # 3 - The Pond

Innocence. This is where we begin. The pond is safety. The pond is away from all adulteration. The pond just is. The pond is where birds grow wings and snakes get scales.

Case Study # 4 - The Ocean

The culmination of all entities of water is the bluest of all blues -- the ocean. This is the ultimate test, the place where the day is so red. Synthetically lit vessels remain buoyant atop a civilization of wretched, torn down carcasses. Half of them go about, unaware of what is underneath, the other half dodge its' eminence out of the way and set forth into a false hope of industrialization; of creating something bigger than man and his two hands. The ocean is where birds fly to sustain life, where they manifest everything beneath their wings. Ocean is the God too colossal to be shaken by wind. Instead, the breeze passes over the deity and becomes a servant to it. Though, war is inevitable and ships are bound to break. Preoccupied with action rather than vanity, the ocean swallows the sun for its' hue. The ocean is the answer to the fire.

The 21st of April, 2010

Another year, another heart was added to my being today.

What colors have been mixed with my flesh and what oh, what have I learned?

That I am strong.

A year ago today, the trees that are my bones began to rustle and shoot up into the moisture of our spring. God gave me my wings and I flew into the summer air and never looked back. But in the fall I had a heart attack. Drove winter into a fence and then everything turned black.

--

We are a fragile species, man. We are cold and naked even when we are clothed and warm. Why do we hurt people like this? When we are all simultaneously bleeding and breathing the same. Why do we forget that all we get is bones, cartilage and tissue? We are all of the same atoms, yet selective to when we use our protons, electrons and neutrons right. Where is the symbiosis?

At the nucleus of our kind is this beautifully beating but ever breaking heart. This is what differenciates us. This gives us strength. Why don't we see these things? I guess it is my job to help.

--

I have been haunted by familiar ghost long enough to find another host. You were the one I loved the most. Tell me why everything flumes into you. Why can my spark not burn high enough to escape your face. My prayer for you is grace. That you would see this broken thing and be humbled by the Creator of the Universe. There is something bigger than you. There is an ember that burns true.

--

I am undeniably lonely. I do not sing songs. I do not run. I do not jump. I just fight.

God, make me beautiful again. Build me new.

Please fucking build me new.

Quatre. Vingt.

How dare you sing me those songs and give your blood to another bottle the next day. Thou shalt not wear your cross upon my spine.

Told me the lightning bolt came back in hopes you could birth my spark anew. Well I was summer and the spring it was you. You are The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot and I am out of ammunition. So pit fire to the wind and set this town ablaze. But know that I won't be waiting for another phase. Of tips n tricks and birthday hips. You split my insides in two yet forgot the scars I would chew. But I didn't bleed lesions, at least not for you. Always remember what my ligaments can do. But for now, I'm done running after you. Thank you number 747, for the colors in my tubes.

--

There is a Good Lord who is true. He made me all red and gave you blue.

April the 17th

These curtains have not been open for almost a year.

I need you sun, and blue and green and heat. Come back, Navarre. Glow.

I miss my healthy insides and the veins that show on my outsides. I don't have veins anymore. I am trying so hard to bleed. The feeling to slice my fruitful flesh still burns at my heart.

Run Alexander, run. I won't be far behind you. Just know that one day I will catch up and you will go up. Then we'll all come back down and be made new. And when we do I'll stain these pages so thick you have to think quick. Fight, fight, fight for I was the one born with flight. And you'll see my wings knock death to all your useless things. Yeah, I come from Colorado Springs where everyone sings. I made that and I birthed this. One day your ghost'll come back. I won't ever forget that you can't swim. So meet me in the river, honey and watch me bleed.

Red, she is so beautiful. Red she is so bright.

Oh how you fucked that cold, dark, night.

April the 14th

In six days I will have the option to be born again. In six days a seventeenth heart will be added to my blood. That happens, doesn't it?

WE GET ANOTHER HEART EACH YEAR WE AGE

Think about it.

Where do we start?

Fragile and innocent, but undeniably ignorant. We know not of man or God of Devil or nature or ocean or fire. But we were born with open eyes. So what do we do as we progress into fruition? WE BEGIN TO SEE! And with sight comes experience. With sight comes struggle, intolerance and opinionation. With that comes growth and the formation of self. In that we find love and fear. We find what makes us shake and quake and rumble. We begin to see the ocean for what it is worth. We learn to be kind to others and how to help the broken. We learn how to be the broken and need help. We learn what tastes, sounds glistens and shines just right.

Aren't all of these things inside of a heart? Don't these things drive a human being?

So what if that is why we age?

Not to mold and evolve with one heart, but to gain more.

My red of the day.

I have never feared the summer more. I need to stop being and become.

Godamn You April 13th

Maybe I prefer a fire that starts with wind.

Maybe it just hurts.

I am not a number.

I am not a category.

I am not a percentile.

I am not a science experiment.

I am not a law.

I am not a genre.

I am not 'an' I am.

Dear Alexander, please don't ever speak of me again.

--

Maybe it hurts to have nothing wrong with you.

Maybe God wants us to play with the Devil to prove that there isn't really a Devil at all.

Maybe God doesn't punish.

Maybe he just reveals.

The Morning is April the 10th

Oh, to be where I have been.

To feel the things I have felt
And to kneel where I have knelt

But Alexander, you continue to ignore my fragile pelt.

So I must accept the futility in everything but me. I tried so hard and fought so long. I wanted to be with you when you played that song. I wanted that summer. But instead you gave me fire.

These are the thoughts I will sing about.
You are so gone.

--

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

My eyes are still so green. But they are not free. Sun, you used to burn so bright. What happened to your light? You, these things, where have they gone? Did I burn so hot the ceiling melted and turned us red?

Where do my dreams go at night, wrapped in my fears so tight? Oh my God, oh my God, where do you take them to meet your face?

Some day you will die and somehow somethin's gonna steal your carbon

I am prosecuted. Daily.

They tell me that I am wrong to want to know what is stinging when it hurts and what feels right when I stand beside my plight. Where does my fire go when man stealeth my lamp?

Isabelle, oh, my Isabelle, what have they done to you? Your dress, it is leaking and your heart, I hear the weeping. When did he tell you to stop the seeking? Why have you done this to yourself? I made you so strong, I made you so tall. But the Whiskey mixed with the pills only to help you fall. When did you start praying for rain and fuck it all?

He broke you Isabelle, he broke you in six times twenty-two. He made you cold and left you do die alone. Claimed your hands had planted the seed and let your iron-lung breathe the weed.

But he loves you Isabelle, he loves you. Fight for that freedom and he will be there. He in this Spring. He is in this air. You are so beautiful, Isabelle, and this story is yours to tell.

I Am April the Sixth

The abyss of florescents and tile flooring sucks me in and I jab back with force, force, force.

Man shaketh and I join to sing along that same song. I am bigger than this. We are bigger than this. We must fight!

The very same call to action that doth wake us from our slumber is alive and we must learn to break the bones of the rich and giveth the marrow to the poor.

Good Lord, what is that you toldeth last Sunday? That you hath risen, you hath risen. Teach us that song, tune our hearts and let us go, let us go. Dawn may break but the sun she cometh.

We must throw stones and shout like the fire! We are alive. We are alive and Good One, you shine. These pages; I will fill by the 17th year of my time. Moses wrote his books and I will write mine.

Genesis is here for us all so that we may defeat the fall. So pick him up, the God that you call and breathe life into these grains of sand and after take my hand. This Alexander, is the life we had planned.

Sink Me In Your River

Oh, gracious Lord, I'll ask you time and time again
To bring me a fire that is right and a pair of eyes that are bright
So that I may see the remnants of my shaven wool in the ash

Teach me once more how to cleanse myself in the rain that you pour
And fix my broken bones anew
So that I may come back to you

Chisel at my heart oh, chisel at my heart
Mold my being akin to the purity I let them tear apart

Let me see, Lord, let me see
So that I can be forever faithful to the mirror image of me