Burning heart, piercing truth Grace, Groping…… Tears slide down, swells the embrace Courage, Clutching…… Wrenched apart, iron forged between Resolute, Reeling……. Bars torment, numbness dulling Peace, Pleading…... Chains pulling, sunlight fingering Surmount, Slipping…… Limbs weary, soul silently waiting Bravery, Blenching…… Beating, Beating…. Breathing, Breathing…. death Stillness, Stillness….. Silence, Silence…… life
To ride a horse when the moon is high,
down the street, to the patriots cry
Oh, how I wish it were I,
with the wind in my face on a midnight ride
To run through the streets with a fist in the air
just trying to right the things so unfair
oh, how I wish I'd been there
with loud cries of 'strike!' ringing through the whole square
To walk through the forest with a bow in my hand
wandering free, at one with the land
Oh, I really do think it'd be grand
to sing with the trees as through them I ran
“True freedom isn’t the ability to do whatever you want, but the ability to do what you ought.” - Pope John Paul II
Every morning the dawn finds you,
on the hill with crook in hand;
watching over your master's herds,
in this pagan, foreign land.
Trusting God to show you His light,
guarding the sheep every day.
Still on the hill you are come darkness,
and through the night there you stay.
Grasping always unto your faith,
trusting God to show the way;
one day His light shines through your darkness.
An angel standing bright as day.