It’s that ebbing feeling, consistently it comes and goes
It’s a fist curled inside my throat
Fighting against the truths I’ll never know
It’s my feet, always the same two in isolation,
Stirring up the ashes of long gone ghosts,
The words they said and those who passed
This same spot on this same road
It’s every living soul hovering silently overhead
It’s the emptiness from every word I never said
As light as dust and as heavy as lead
Maybe one day we’ll make it somewhere,
Safe and warm, where the waters are calm,
Skies are quietly fair
In this bus going nowhere, far from home,
I rest, I exhale the past and all I’ve known
Lean to gaze at the distant rising light,
And hope we make it there.
