Open Your Eyes
Tell me what does love do when it cannot sick around?
Does it settle with another where its freedom can abound?
Does it fly around the universe looking for a home?
Does it hide out in the garden chatting with a gnome?
Can it wander through the wilderness parched and dry and torn?
Will it wrestle with the weary who greet its face with scorn?
No I think it stays within us, dormant and asleep
Tired of climbing up a hill that just became too steep
A reminder that it’s in there, still a