A year that feels like ten.

A never ending road of broken glass.

With shredded feet and calloused progress,

We march on.

Cry me a river
O'er, rapids coming forth
setting my soul FREE.

In total,
I think I know nothing
                           Of you.
In part,
I think I know all
                  Of you.
Together,
I think is where I’ll start
                          With you.