Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Cascading Patterns

I sit on the porch with my peach princess
All I could ever need is here, staring straight through my soul
And I wonder if she even knows
That all she sees aren't merely ghosts, but cascading patterns
Colors I've never seen before tonight
Shimmer and dance before my very eyes, eyes so blessed to be here
For the final chapter of the great ordeal
I'd rather get hurt than never feel this beauty

This edge of the sword is much sharper than the last
And I wonder how long this will last
I hang from the cross - you could call it a loss
I'd be more upset, but I'm insane
I swing from the cross
Like all things going round and round, and up and down

But all is not lost. No, all is not lost
It's really not so bad to hang from a cross
At least there's a nice view of all the squalor and beauty too
There's more to see here than from a pew
And I am still here, and she is still here
There's really no reason to fear anything at all