elusive ragings of hand over fist
darken the half-light of dawn
drawing conclusions from out of the mist
with notions of reason and wrong

heartbreaking tumult, the battle it seems
lies at the root of it all
but somewhere still smiling from canyons serene
the champion of freedom stands tall

it's late again, it's straight again
it's hopeless and it's lost.
despair cries "retreat!" and stands to watch
then, cascading, campaigning,
the bright tones of relief
form magic music chords and send for God

outside the winds beat unmercifully hard;
fear creeps like sand in through the cracks.
but inside the still ness is consciously formed
as false goals and egos relax.