I count the markings on the wall,
And they speak of how much time
Has passed, of what has been and gone,
And of those few things
That, somehow, remain--
Pride, honesty, love, hope, fear,
All hanging unceremoniously, strewn
About this space, this isolated
Mistake that burns me to the moment.
Slowly, without any pomp or circumstance,
I find myself quietly on my knees,
Offering up something of a prayer.
It isn't like me to bend to Heaven,
As I pale the written words before me,
As a brighter moment I beseech,
One where the flames have the power
To heal as well as hurt. I wear the Phoenix
Around my wrist, but no, it is no Albatross
Around my neck, though perhaps I
As the Mariner once did, also
Have forsake my salvation.
Yes, it has been a long time
Since I tried to talk to God,
But all at once the words began,
With my heart sticking inside my throat,
I spoke the very existence of my soul,
Perhaps in vain--I cannot yet tell.
This is not the breath of an angel,
But a sinner who does not yet repent,
But pushes the journey further
Than any man may understand--
I have done all the wrong things
For all the right reasons, and you
May judge me if that is what you will,
But I already have made my peace,
Spoke the words, asked the favors,
All the while, been something like humble
To the otherwordly ways of this Life,
And yet never asking for forgiveness,
For it means nothing if not done
Through one's own free will.
How long have you been standing there,
Waiting in the dark, waiting in wings?
I pace these shadows as my own,
Balancing the two worlds of this single existence,
And I wonder how I did not see you there,
Before all of this was tried and true,
An error that was placed in play,
Caught by fate, and thrown through
This thing called Destiny.
Can something such as this be undone
By a prayer? I count the markings on the wall,
And wonder how long it will be,
Before I see the starlight of a new beginning.
This is just a fragile prayer, but I wonder
If God will answer it through you.
And they speak of how much time
Has passed, of what has been and gone,
And of those few things
That, somehow, remain--
Pride, honesty, love, hope, fear,
All hanging unceremoniously, strewn
About this space, this isolated
Mistake that burns me to the moment.
Slowly, without any pomp or circumstance,
I find myself quietly on my knees,
Offering up something of a prayer.
It isn't like me to bend to Heaven,
As I pale the written words before me,
As a brighter moment I beseech,
One where the flames have the power
To heal as well as hurt. I wear the Phoenix
Around my wrist, but no, it is no Albatross
Around my neck, though perhaps I
As the Mariner once did, also
Have forsake my salvation.
Yes, it has been a long time
Since I tried to talk to God,
But all at once the words began,
With my heart sticking inside my throat,
I spoke the very existence of my soul,
Perhaps in vain--I cannot yet tell.
This is not the breath of an angel,
But a sinner who does not yet repent,
But pushes the journey further
Than any man may understand--
I have done all the wrong things
For all the right reasons, and you
May judge me if that is what you will,
But I already have made my peace,
Spoke the words, asked the favors,
All the while, been something like humble
To the otherwordly ways of this Life,
And yet never asking for forgiveness,
For it means nothing if not done
Through one's own free will.
How long have you been standing there,
Waiting in the dark, waiting in wings?
I pace these shadows as my own,
Balancing the two worlds of this single existence,
And I wonder how I did not see you there,
Before all of this was tried and true,
An error that was placed in play,
Caught by fate, and thrown through
This thing called Destiny.
Can something such as this be undone
By a prayer? I count the markings on the wall,
And wonder how long it will be,
Before I see the starlight of a new beginning.
This is just a fragile prayer, but I wonder
If God will answer it through you.



