If I had the words to speak of a new beginning,
I would crawl inside that inspiration and cry the tears that elude me,
I sometimes wonder if my daughter will know the horror of a soul that won’t cry,
I hope not, I hope she knows nothing but sadness and joy,
I once dreamed of a Christmas morning adorned with all of my friends and family laughing
to the sounds of Earth, Wind, and Fire.
And soon that may come.
But now, I see dreams just beyond my reach,
And hopes that look impossible,
This sorrow is a wondrous antidote to the horror of my refracted consciousness screaming
that I am hell bound,
For I may never know the joy of dreams fulfilled,
But in the meantime, I feel God’s tears pitter patting on my window sill,
And I leave my window open, so that he knows I’m listening.