I. So its Come To This

Beneath the face of an August moon.

Encircled by a gang of angry clouds.

Down the corridor of a silver beam. motes of dust wander aimlessly.

I startle them away with a wave of my hand.

They scatter along my unfinished thoughts.

So, its come to this.

I gave all I had to attain this world.

I have gained nothing but sorrow.

Here I wait as the storm clouds gather.

For my road to end, for what more can there be?

Surely there is no way for me to turn around and start again.

Or is there?

Can it be there is another way?

A guide, to take me to another chance?

If I called His name would He rescue me,

from this fairy tale minus happy ending?

Could it be that this Savior would draw close to me, and take me home?



II. Famous Last Words

I used believe that I was meant for greatness.

Now I understand that greatness was not for me.

I dont think theres a man alive who even knows my name.

Lets face it, Im destined for mediocrity.

Sometimes I think about the way things might have been.

And the words of a young man to naive to see.

Its all right, I can handle it, Im in control.

Now I lie awake in bed afraid of tomorrow.

And Im amazed they havent carted me away.

My friends never believed that I would get this far

but me Im more surprised that I had the nerve to stay.

And now Im hanging on to a broken limb

and its a long way down.

And a betting man wouldnt give me one more day.

But Its all right, I can handle it, Im in control.

Meaningless, all is meaningless.



III. Brush With Life

Thunder bellows for attention, like an angry father.

Lightning pops staccato flashbulbs, blinding sleepless eyes.

The wind howls a requiem for the unseen,

unceremonious passage of innocence-a