New Dawn The Son rose on that first day, A great doorway opened wide. Events played out, from Friday to Sunday, Now an emptiness deep inside. All is lost, how can I explain, To whom shall we go, where can we turn. Discarded grave cloths now remain, What is there here for me...
Lost I’m lost but, Not looking for direction. Knowing a door will open, A path become clear. A word will be spoken, To rest on my ear. Life is predestined, To be all that it can. For our part we must, Grasp each opportunity, Lest it pass through our fingers. Recurring doors, Become familiar. Paths where our feet, Have since...
New Dawn The Son rose on that first day, A great doorway opened wide. Events played out, from Friday to Sunday, Now an emptiness deep inside. All is lost, how can I explain, To whom shall we go, where can we turn. Discarded grave cloths now remain, What is there here for me...