It’s no wonder I’ve felt so tired
|
I’ve witnessed the careless all running past me
|
While I’ve been told to ignore my desires
|
And grow numb with understanding
|
|
I walk through theses woods
|
I carry this deadwood
|
I am determined to see this through
|
Driven only by the guilt and the shame of giving up
|
I must complete what I set out to do - For you
|
|
It stayed on a shelf made of my arms
|
They had grown strong from giving support
|
I knew that my arms could hold out forever
|
It was my mind that’d grow tired
|
And in time would let go
|
|
It’s been so long since I have questioned
|
What it is that I really want
|
Instead I follow your directions
|
As you lead me on
|
|
I can’t use it to build my home
|
It will not fulfill my desires
|
Some wood can be used to help build a life
|
This wood will be used for building a fire
|
|
Why carry this deadwood with me…
|
…when were I’m going there will be living trees
|
|
Now close enough to carry it all to the end
|
But throwing it all to the ground instead
|
|
This bundle of deadwood
|
The pieces they fall
|
Corners indent the soil and accumulate on one another
|
Tumble down and pile up
|
|
It awkwardly spills like myself at a time
|
Like the time it had killed
|
Like every moment after it was collected and held
|
|
I’d give up all that I started
|
To pursue all that I wanted
|
I may arrive empty handed
|
But at least I will arrive
|
|
-----------------
|
Shedding The Deadwood
|
| Woods Of Ypres |
