words ... 11dec2003

i guess i have a proper place, somewhere in all this time and space,
but damned if i know where, and when, and how.
perhaps i'm bound for some great thing, a timeless phrase, perhaps to sing,
but scribbling will have to do for now.
i'm lost amidst the shifting sands, the twilight looms a thousand strands,
i feel my legs are buried in the dunes.
i thirst for time to slow it's move, so i may yet come to disprove,
'cause all i am, so far, is words and worn out tunes.

i'm waitin' on a thunderbolt from some prophetic line i wrote
to light the sky perhaps to start a fire
for now i have to plod along lookin' for that perfect song
to pull me out of all this muck and mire
i hope someday i'll learn my way to say the things i have to say
on crowded nights and lonely afternoons
til then i struggle on my own and hope when all my seeds are grown
that i'll be so much more than words and worn out tunes.

stephenhsmith 11dec2003