If She Sings
Maybe if she sings I’ll let my walls down, yet even that might not penetrate my dismal frown. Still I place all my hope in that single direction, ‘cause I know that within her is my resurrection. Her eyes burn me so deep they lead to forever, yet her soul, tattered by life, whispers never. Can it be that two people are so truly the same, both lonely in life and weary of this game? Today I stand at a loss, but refuse to yield. Please listen to the story inscribed on my shield: My name hearkens Vikings and inspires the thunder, though for many years I kept it buried deep under. Then three of seven years came to pass, and on that fated day the moon crossed the sun’s path. Emboldened by this sign I let my strength grow. No longer from my sword would angry death flow. I opened great channels to the other side, and began to bathe ritually in the morning tide. The future is foggy, the way unclear, yet the answer my friends is not in your beer. You may look to me; I’ll serve if I must. But throw me no coins, for in your gold I do not trust. I hold a deeper spirituality at my core. It longs for freedom, simplicity and more. A farmer I was, and will be at heart. Forward we must go, let the journey start. This world is wonderful from all I can see. Let’s grab hold of this present, seize eternity. Watch as I fling my sword into the sea. Then come closer my dear and let us be free. Your presence glows and fills up my senses, From us all flows, no need for defenses. The world was never a prison of our pain. Everything exists within us, we’ve no one to blame.
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