Post by moseley on Jan 28, 2013 22:55:42 GMT -6
then hope comes, and somehow
this hope becomes something past art
the one thing that makes your jaw drop
solidifies the broken heart into one piece
and this hope like a yoyo goes down
with a little pull, comes back to the hand again
and again, until, sometimes it falls
and hangs at the end of the tethered string
often tied to your middle finger
and has to be rewound,
is it what we made of this at all
is it the action we believe we have to participate
a little of the up and down, the ins and outs
forwards and backwards, to often finding ourselves
an easy two miles stepped back
driving the car in reverse while staring forward
the wall is always in the rear view
but is it there if you don't see it
our best effort is to hold the arrow and pull back
and aim right at the sun, with all our might
and let go just believing it's going to get there
on this try, this time
hope sometimes is the one thing we have left
when everything else gets lost
like breadcrumbs to leave a trail in the forest
we walked on faith into,
could have just thrown a rock through the witch's cottage
and not have to pass that test of fire
in the unforgiving oven, under some gingerbread roof
and piercing the sun with our arrow,
we break off a piece somehow to fit in our pocket
when we need it, like a candle in Hell
just something to light the way
when the darkness sets in
and the question of how we got there
matters far less
than which way is the right way out.....
this hope becomes something past art
the one thing that makes your jaw drop
solidifies the broken heart into one piece
and this hope like a yoyo goes down
with a little pull, comes back to the hand again
and again, until, sometimes it falls
and hangs at the end of the tethered string
often tied to your middle finger
and has to be rewound,
is it what we made of this at all
is it the action we believe we have to participate
a little of the up and down, the ins and outs
forwards and backwards, to often finding ourselves
an easy two miles stepped back
driving the car in reverse while staring forward
the wall is always in the rear view
but is it there if you don't see it
our best effort is to hold the arrow and pull back
and aim right at the sun, with all our might
and let go just believing it's going to get there
on this try, this time
hope sometimes is the one thing we have left
when everything else gets lost
like breadcrumbs to leave a trail in the forest
we walked on faith into,
could have just thrown a rock through the witch's cottage
and not have to pass that test of fire
in the unforgiving oven, under some gingerbread roof
and piercing the sun with our arrow,
we break off a piece somehow to fit in our pocket
when we need it, like a candle in Hell
just something to light the way
when the darkness sets in
and the question of how we got there
matters far less
than which way is the right way out.....
