Hard Land Of Wonder

In the 33rd year of her journey

She hits the hard land of wonder

That nothing prepared her for

And the guide books go blank and quideless

And the guiding lights are holes in the darkness

And parachutes won't unfold

It's her birthday - the candles are burning

And the memories keep returning

Glossy postcards from some other life

She reopens her box of glory

But she can only see blossoms falling

How the gravity brings things down

Am I the river, or am I the boat?

There's swirly dark water wherever I go

Am I the paper, or am I the pen

Possessed and driven

By some Greater Hand...?

So tired of constant trying

In the red eye of another day dying

She sees beauty she'll never embrace

Stillhaunted by phantoms of freedom

She turns to the innocent wisdom

Engraved in her daughter's face

Am I the river, or am I the boat?

There's swirly dark water wherever I go

Am I the paper, or am I the pen

Possessed and driven

By some Greater Hand...?

So, could it be love is all that matters

That rough pillow of splinters and feathers

No one ever can rest upon?

As she follows the smell of roses

Is she choosing or being chosen

Moving closer or farther from home?

Am I the river, or am I the boat?

There's swirly dark water wherever I go

Am I the paper, or am I the pen

Possessed and driven

By some Greater Hand...?