I wish to turn around and return (to her warmth and laugher.)
But this calling is strong, and denial is impossible,
No measure or weight can justify what now presses into my chest.
To the road, your freedom is awesome, but does it compare to the sweet embrace of my love?
Our convictions are engraved by our words.
Convictions engraved by her marvelous hands.
My ears are upon the brink of detonation.
And the mud amongst the passage of my throat is drying to permanence.
Harvest the crop of memories
To what’s true, I offer thanks.
I’ve found what’s pure and I’ve found what’s sweet.
We are not barren.
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