Where do we go wrong? From conception? From birth?
It must have been all written in the stars,
In the big-bang, in the so-called book of life, in the chaos of atoms.
They seem all the same now to me, as one
Not fond of predestination, but that's how it feels.
Some don't fit in, don't play the game too well.
What is it in them, in us, in me, that repels good fortune?
We are counseled to accept that we deserve none.
All right. I accept. Let the world have its way.
I am its instrument, though I longed to be yours.
I have not fulfilled my promise,
But how does that make me so different?
I would, with words, have made straight your path,
But none listen or care. Do you? Speak. Please.
There you go again, in silence retreating.
But I have listened and spoken and believed.
I took an oath, and you at your word;
I'd have plowed the field that it might take root.
I must have expected something in return.
I know: no favors for the favored. I ask too much.
"Take no thought for the morrow." But I must.
I wanted only to make a world for three.
But I cannot stand before my children.
How will I explain their father's legacy?
There comes a time when even children
Know the absence of a thing. It can't stay
Hidden. The world relishes one more defeat.
If there is justice, if you are listening,
If you care, spare them their father's sins,
For only sin explains this desert.
They deserve none of my lot, and more
Than you have given them in me.
Loving them with my life was not enough,
Or you'd not have left me here to wither.
If there is justice, if you are listening,
If you care. Speak. Please. It's true
What they say - you are unmovable.
So now I surrender, now I yield,
I am nothing and nothing will come.
I'll sleep in this desert, on a thoroughfare of stone,
If you give safe haven to those I cannot.
If there is justice, if you are listening...
The universe is not dark by accident,
With sputtering lights scattered throughout.
My soul's mansion has many rooms
But no shelter; I can't find the light;
A thief has broken in, stolen the lamp;
The roof is gone, the corridors blind alleys;
The windows are sealed, the curtains drawn,
The garden wilts in a ceaseless rain.
Hope is the hardest virtue.
I've never lived without it before,
The time not of my choosing. Or was it?
How strange to believe but not care,
To be alive, yet not be.
There's more to say...
When I was young I dreamed;
There was beauty then, everywhere.
I loved the world , trusting it would love
Me back. Fatal error. But I did love, I do...
But now I'm tired and need rest
From the dreams I don't dream anymore,
And the wearisome conversation.
I wish good to those I love,
Among whom I am not numbered.
I'll hold them close with my last breath;
I'll look for their faces, not yours.
They are all the evidence I have.
But (if you are listening) please remember
I once loved these more than the world.
Though life be an ember when I'm dying
I'll hold it in my hands once more,
Toss it lightly palm to palm;
Though blind with age I'll see it on the air,
With a puff of breath make it burn once more,
For (if there is justice) none, not even you,
Can take it away, this light that flared
To light my life's moment in time;
One more time I'll make it burn
Within this heart I've built for three,
This one good thing I've done.