I am lost, so who will come find me,
Amidst the trees and the brush,
Crippled and lifeless,
I can make out no noise
Except the wind moaning the ache
Of those who came before me
And my own voice shouting-
Singing-
Whispering Your name.
Doing all it can
Believing that it will stumble upon some
Sort of sanity.
And when it grows tired,
I slouch in silence waiting
For the strength to start again.

I am lost, out where the bluebird falls
And woeful souls laugh because they have long since
Cried their tears out of existance.
I wither away, stumbling over desolate land
Speaking to trees with no faces
Asking if there is any other way,
Knoing their silence means
That there is no other option.
Not until I have drowned out my senses
And my bones grow weary in the slightest movement,
That is when I look up
To be greeted by the sun tickling
Warmth back into my eyes,
But this time, when my voise
Resonates throughout the wilderness
I know exactly who will hear.