The words on this board —Sixteen years old;The writers, Long-sleeping, I fear —But this chalk, that’s the byword For transcience,Is somehow, some way,Still hereIt’s hard to know reasonsFor what has been;What’s lost, What has yet to be built —But somethings remainThat we can’t explainWrapped up inSurvivor’s guilt
a heavy head over sad shoulders, when all the strength you have is composed of your sorrows — how, my friends, do we all sink under the same shared weight without realizing that is what unites us? or should
Across the valley green and wide Your life, your heart, your destiny A time to act, a time to watch The song of faith and family To age: the sin some can’t forgive But years are gifts for those who see That beauty sleeps within the pain That’s life, that’s hope, that’s destiny
that doom is always coming is easy to predict, for all we know dwells deep within a certain interdict that wind and wash will wear away whate’er we think the norm — so lives are what we are, and do, before and in the storm
It was the June of growing up, Surrounded there by living things, A lesson found in passiveness, And moss that tangled up like strings Like young ideals that shatter on The petals of what were your dreams The sweet perfume of giving up And being still when all within you Screams
We ran along the shore like horses, Glorying in strength and speed; Where we we went was not important, Just to love and drink and feed Near the endless, boundless waters, We were wild, we were free, Summers spent in foam and breathless By the teeming, timeless sea
What were we children? Unafraid, The world spread out beneath our feet — We’d promises we meant to keep: For time would later come to sleep, And we had villains to defeat. On city streets and fields of green, The greatest hope of smallest hearts: To see it all, and by all to be seen.
The journey starts at sun up, A voyage built of years; From in the mists, forgoten-ness, And sorrow in arrears That’s paid up in a string of hopes And unexpected joys — The voyage is the thing, the rest Is emptiness And noise
I've seen the sun come up on dreams, I've seen the night come down in eyes, I've loved, and been discarded both, So it should come as no surprise That the song keeps going after us. There's a time I'll stop when my day is done: But although the chorus be vast and loud You … Continue reading "The Song Keeps Going"