It's days like these,
the cloudy ones
where the wind blows through my sweater
and makes me shiver, but maybe
not from the cold.
The world holds us down,
pinned under the weight of a thousand pains.
This town tells us to stay.
And we know that if we could,
we would all just run away.
It's days like these where I can
See it in the streets,
reflecting in the windows of the shops,
not meeting my eye,
in the wooden pew,
in the other room.
Facades like a giant masquerade,
smiling, happy faces,
covering wretched grimaces of broken love,
just trying to escape.
And I can see,
we all just want to run away.
To where will you run?
In what corner of this dark world
will you take your final comfort?
In the midst of thunder, lightning, winds
that rush around me,
in the face of the Facade of Ages,
I feel whispered lies, spoken
so gently into my ear, so sweetly
I'm sick, broken, on the floor.
Yet it will be Love that holds me here,
Love that turns my determined countenance
to the storm, set in stone,
rooted and unmoved.
It will be Love like magnets
that draws my broken pieces back together,
moving in fast forward
to the silhouette of a killing cross,
on which the Son of Man suffered
for Everlasting Love
until I'm whole,
until Love's arms are the only thing I can find
into which to run.
