i sit down upon the precipice
lording over all my shattered dreams
for which i see now were simply pieces
of the road as it was meant to be
and see now say now why not now
would i write this song how
i heard it in my head that autumn night
so many years ago found
on the bench under the lamppost
as the snow came drifting down
for as the scars upon my back attest
my fear and shaking hands drove me harder
than the clinging to my innocence
and i cannot rest now even though
the wounds are not quite healed
but for example take a whiff of this
on my hands this rose i hold dear
and you’ll understand that even
in my darkest years
i clung to something greater
and still do so perhaps i can now sit
amidst the wildflowers
and watch the stream wind to and fro
perhaps i can now in subservience rest
upon this sacred mount where olives grow