Words&Dirt

Absent rings and broken trees,
We’ve got our fair share of these.
Empty seats and missing words,
Taking flight they’re all a blur.

When we recall the fall and all the lightened thing within us stalls.
When we replant this hymnal rant our next most precious thing just can’t.

Separate strides and rotting leaves,
We’ve got our fair share of these.
Crack the floor and burn the drain,
Anything to quell this pain.

When we reside inside this slide all we meet is foolish pride.
When we digress into this stress we lose our only chance to bless.

Forlorn plans and dusty eves,
We’ve got our fair share of these.
Tireless tumult sheds its weight,
We all know it’s getting late.

When we dance around this chance we give divinity a glance.
When we tear apart this start our loneliness becomes an art.

Unkept vows and pleasure scenes,
We’ve got our fair share of these.
Fear-drenched mornings, aching bone,
One less place we’re calling home.