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Stone Cold Belief
There's a setting sun behind us, there are shadows growing long. There's a rumble from the highway and the echo comes back strong. Someone tumbles from the mountain and their speech becomes a song while blind prophets and deaf preachers claim to know what's right or wrong. If you lie too long in sunlight, will your eyes change color, too? Will your ears become transparent, will you speak a different hue? Does it ever cross your quiet mind that some lies might be true? Will you stand beside the sinner when his judgement's coming due? Yesterday was full of hailstones, tomorrow it might rain and you still can't figure out just what it is that causes pain. If beauty fades in darkness, does elegance remain? If you cannot sing the chorus, what becomes of the refrain? I'm standing at the crossroads with a poem in my hand. If I toss the words into the sky, does it matter where they land? If I hide them in my pocket, will the poem turn to sand? Is there madness in the message or is everything unplanned?
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