Rough terrain slashing the backs of the weary wanderer
The dread of the perils of the trail
From the ones that were crossed before
Uncertainty underscoring the lines
The shapes and signs of the ever changing rhythm
Time and moments to a life
Tying memories around the things that matter
The dreams that scatter and crease the brow
The whys the wonder of the who how whens
Some places you head towards
The journey never seems to end or pace to slow
Of growing old or grace enough to blanket imperfections
Freedom fairness compassion justice to roam
An old friend, the shoulder upon which to lean
A pillow upon which to dream, to imagine the things that cannot be seen
Hope, the age old wisdom, the comforting touch
Puts words to songs and music to poetry
Makes things so ordinarily missed and neglected
Find their meaning
And mean much
The dread of the perils of the trail
From the ones that were crossed before
Uncertainty underscoring the lines
The shapes and signs of the ever changing rhythm
Time and moments to a life
Tying memories around the things that matter
The dreams that scatter and crease the brow
The whys the wonder of the who how whens
Some places you head towards
The journey never seems to end or pace to slow
Of growing old or grace enough to blanket imperfections
Freedom fairness compassion justice to roam
An old friend, the shoulder upon which to lean
A pillow upon which to dream, to imagine the things that cannot be seen
Hope, the age old wisdom, the comforting touch
Puts words to songs and music to poetry
Makes things so ordinarily missed and neglected
Find their meaning
And mean much
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