If something good can come from bad,
the past can rest in peace.
But they just keep moving line
the closer it gets, the harder the climb
I say I can go the distance
But how long is it?
Solomon calls all things emptiness, just vanity.
So what if I had it all?
Would it be enough? Would I smile wide as the noonday sun?
If the race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong,
if food comes neither to the wise nor wealth to the brilliant
or favor to the learned;
Will I leave all to chance?
The past refuses to stay buried
choosing instead to dance over every grave
daring demons long banished from the world of the living to life
the sounds of a broken record
I turn the page, but it is marked by shadows of what’s been written
on the previous page
Caught in the storm of life
Hounded by smoke screens
I am the wreckage.