Nothing to give, I offered my nothing for the something you gave to be given.
Forged in the fiery furnace of creation, creating creativity to create and enliven;
Not to be horded and hidden, guarded in greed, ensconced in my darkened soul,
But as gifted gift, to be gifted, like the lighted flame not concealed under bowl.    

But I’m walking this street,
And hearing the beat
Of the heart of every one I meet.  

And I’m seeing the hands,
Of the wandering bands
Of empty souls with no demands.  

Gift offered, none to receive,
Love given, none believe
And so tired and weary, I grieve.  

Sun-baked land, dry with no rain and for rain I begged to quench my thirst.
Stirred from the heavenlies, then sweet water of Life you sent and submersed,
But not my burning only to quench, but quench the burning of others so dry,
As you rained to be rain, you flow to flow through me, healing balm to apply.  

But I’m walking this street,
And I’m hearing the beat
Of the hearts of every one I meet.  

And I’m seeing the hands,
Of the wandering bands
Of empty souls with no demands.  

Gift offered, none to receive,
Love given, none believe
And so tired and weary, I grieve.  

Everything you have given me, then, I give back to you, all for nothing more.
Consumed in the fiery furnace of oblivion, to walk through death’s dark door,
Crushed and crucified on this blood-soaked cross I lifted up and chose to carry,
And yet does your voice drift in on the wind, “What I give you I do not bury.”  

But I’m walking this street,
And I’m hearing the beat
Of the hearts of every one I meet.  

And I’m seeing the hands,
Of the wandering bands
Of empty souls with no demands.  

Gift offered, none to receive,
Love given, none believe
And so tired and weary, I grieve.  

And will you hear me and relieve?
Your mercy now give to receive,
And your love new life to weave?

... as I darkly walk this street
... hearing the forlorn beat
... of every empty heart I meet.