I write until I tune my head
with my heart.
Words,
are the knobs
that twist my heart strings to the right
tune.

Why,
oh why?!

Do I constantly
seek the shade of darkness
when Your Son brings me so much warmth.

"I give you mountains,
to raise you up."

But Jesus,
I'm so tired.

"I'll carry you.
For I did not come
to be served,
but to serve."

So I rest in your arms
as your grace
carries me
to my resting place.

Yahweh
the God of Heaven, Earth, and Space
I choose,
to see your views.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.