Come away to the water. The real deal.

There is a man by the name of Glen Hansard.  To quote a friend of mine:

He yells a lot in his music.  But softly.  In a wonderful Irish accent.

I love him.

“Come Away To The Water”

Come away little lass come away to the water,
To the arms that are waiting only for you.
Come away little lass come away to the water,
To the ones appointed to see it through.
We are calling to you.

Come away little light come away to the laughter,
Show yourself so we might live.
Come away little light come away to the laughter,
To the ones appointed to see it through.
We are coming for you.
We are coming for you.

Come away little lamb come away to the water,
Give yourself so we might live anew.
Come away little lamb come away to the slaughter,
To the ones appointed to see it through.
We are coming for you.
We are coming for you.

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Songs of my heart (without my brain’s participation)

I’ve been on a songwriting kick for a bit now…if by “songwriting” you mean random thoughts that you string together in the hopes that it sounds pretty and someday someone super talented will set it to music…then yes, I have been “song-writing”. Today’s contribution to this diary is a “song” I call “If”. Inspired by a series of seemingly random coincidences that I feel are not so random at all and are in fact God’s way of telling me he has been listening to me cry/whine/plead and wants to reassure me He loves me. Without further ado…

If…

If Walking steadily in the rain, only feeling my own pain.  Sometimes too overwhelming, blinding me.  Always too wrapped up in myself to see. Your little love letters to me.

And the warmth spreads through my chest, my heart full to bursting.  If I just lean in, to feel your hand on my cheek.  

If I just look up, to find your gaze on me. If I just look down, your footprints in the sand, next to mine. If I just look outside the lines, I’ll find. Your little love notes to me. 

There’s an ache inside, a desire to hide. To bury deep within myself, leaving the world behind. And I continue walking steadily in the fog, embracing the confusion.

And some days all it takes, is for you to breathe into me.  If I just lean in, to feel your hand on my cheek.

If I just look up, to find your gaze on me. If I just look down, your footprints in the sand, next to mine. If I just look outside the lines, I’ll find. Your little love notes to me. 

On days when I feel the splinters, the bruises, the cracks. These days when my body gives out, my heart beating uselessly. All I need is to lay at your feet, and listen to you breathing. And hear you speak without words.

Would I just lean in, and feel your hand on my cheek. Would I just look up, and find your gaze on me. Would I look down to see, your footprints in the sand. Would I look outside the lines to find. Little love notes from your heart to mine.