The waters swell from that old tune,
Still...not so much a drop is spilled...

Should it concern the I's?
where God's stability...

I went low
mostly alone and content with things...

Were i to push it
pain against the grain so like...

The white sheet upon a shape,
limitless in mystery...

If three wishes I was granted
I would become a rose...

It's not about heartache
nor emptiness...

I let the curtains breathe
as the ceiling ripples...

God once told me
as I slept...

There's a lot to be said
for streets that are dead...

If we visualize we’re told
if we focus on our goals...

I’m walking quite simply
roaming free without talking...