Many drift and some drown -
pilgrims to this port town
waiting for their ship to come,
peering through a fogbank,
fearing that their god sank.
Maybe this could be the one.
But I'm not sure
we'd all recognize our ships,
even if the sea were dredged;
for boats unnamed
go everyday unclaimed,
then sail off the edge...
It's easier to stay here,
in this sheltered bay here -
setting sail, we may capsize.
Obstacles surround us.
We could run aground
just waiting for the tide to rise.
Too many times
I've hung my lyre on a tree
when the world seemed strange.
It's easier to curse the way things are
then to make a change.
But I want to try
to remember why I came,
to remember who I am,
and add my candle to the flame.
I want to slide
through the great unknown
on the breath of God
and always feel at home.
We're past the point of blaming.
We all want the same thing.
And I think we know the place to start.
But we can't legislate change.
If we want to make change;
it will take a change of heart.
A better world
is not a vision beyond reach -
external or remote.
But to see it,
first we have to be it.
Our living is our vote.
And I want to try
to remember why I came,
to remember who I am,
and add my candle to the flame.
I want to slide
through the great unknown
on the breath of God
and always feel at home.