With no words written on the wall
Lonely is a man's heart
At least when trying to balance out
The respect, and the desire to call
For this true
That lonely is a man's heart in all
When there are no words left for him at all

Tonight I get to do what I was meant to do
To be who I was meant to be
And although every eyeball in every line of sight may be fixated on me
For an hour or so
That doesn’t change the fact that I
Was meant to step out this stage and to bend like a bow
As I did in the days of old
Such talent is still stretched within me
That I should perform, and that I should play, most doggedly
Until the finely threaded twine within my mind begins to unwind
And I am straight as an arrow hence
Laying on the table before, how I once had said
That I hope I can return once more for that again
But not for this I said
Not for this

Love is giving when you're not comfortable giving
The difficult part is both the explaining and understanding your own discomfort
Any lover can give when things are perfect
But it takes faith and trust to keep giving
And to truly understand the meaning
Behind the gift

Life is one wave
After the other
And the swells and lulls
In between

Like a can
I desire to open myself up
So that someone may taste
And partake in the difference
But none can see
No none can see
At least I believe
In the difference in me

Like a paddle lean
Cut the water with yourself
And dig it deep as I have

That way you may not forget yourself
Within this tidal swirl
The wave of life and the currents underneath

The amount of work this is going to take
Both inside and out, and out again
To build this way
Is significant

And the sad thing is
I'm not even comfortable enough to say:

"When you're working here
Would you lay these bricks a certain way?
That way I will feel like myself
When they're underfoot
In the days to come"

I struggle just to say such things
For fear of the constructed persons way

The ocean is grand
The woods are wild
And my eyes are as shallow as the puddles in the summer's rain

But my words are insufficient
And my words are inadequate
When it comes to expressing such things

The trueness of the heart and how it beats  
The clearness of your words and how they ring
Endlessly in my hollow ears

It's getting better
But every time the sun sets
On another age
Another opportunity
My heart sinks
A few inches more
Deeper into my chest

Although there's nothing more to be done
I wish that such things would pass me by
And leave my heart alone at last

Although it's getting better
I wonder what will remain of me
And who I will be
If I survive to see it pass

The truth is not at the bottom of a cup
Nor beneath the Saucer underneath

No words can hold the sacred truth
Just as two cups cannot guarantee
That two minds will ever meet

No, the truth is out there on each table
Waiting for all who would simply sip

The truth that is, the truth is this
That regardless of wherever we may be
The truth is something that simply is

Much like this coffee
Honest with a breath of heat
Or possibly even cold and sweet

Such truth is always percolating
Even if we cannot taste or see
The words of God, resting gently underneath