Life As I Should See It

Banal cares sweep in like clouds,
Imposing, ominous, opaque figures,
Blocking sky and light.
They come in shapes easier to recognize,
Than grace, and light, and love.
And truth be told, I invite these alabaster shrouds,
For though I hate the storm that comes,
With shadows dark as sin,
At least in storms my body feels the rainfall on its skin.

Banal joys rise up inside,
Demanding, explosive, volcanic tubes,
Carving out the skin where substance lay.
They lie closer to the root of what I am,
Than grace, and light, and love.
For from my core runs a molten tide,
That flows through wax and wane,
It eats me up until I'm dead,
To either joy or pain.

So kill that man who says this,
"I'll go to such and such a town,
to buy and to sell,
And when I'm done and reckoned full,
I'll come home,
To grace, and light, and love."
And when he's dead I won't invite these alabaster shrouds,
And though the storms still rage and keep their shadows dark as sin,
My anchor never bids them leave the valley that they're in,

And now I can see through storms,
And I feel more than lava flows,
And I know more than that man knows,
And I can see the goodness of,
The one who lives to carry me,
To grace, and light, and love.