The hardest work is in our heads, at least that’s what they tell me
The things I banish from my mind are exactly what they sell me.
A wild world of fools and friends, charlatans and lovers
None take time to read our words, they only see our covers.
Giving is the hardest thing – except for opening up
Meander down this path, we do, on a nearly empty cup.
Foolishly fighting and frittering time; and failing at it too
The final decades loom before us, mocking all we do.
They are gone far from you now, and in a darkened wood,
Their “right road lost forever” it is, and ever will be – as it should.
But will they live on through you still – they who rent you asunder?
Will you lose your chance at bliss to those who seek to pull you under?
Living is the saddest thing – yet still somehow we live.
Yet we can keep the dark away, if, we put back love we give.
Dancing on a razor’s edge, between the heart and mind,
Grasping for purchase on the solid ground we find.
Giving’s not the hardest thing – it’s in the letting go
Finding peace and meaning in the ever shifting ways we know.
Each new place does look quite new, but still we’re left with what’s inside
No matter how far we may roam, or what we try to hide.
Once a soul, upon a time, did meet another one
Along the way they both felt weary, and just a little numb.
A seeming ball of contradictions, but not so if you only knew
That in the end nature wins, and truth comes streaming through.