Unfolding into empty space,
I populate a draw, a shelf, a room,
Each just slightly different from the last,
Slipping into place I hear the gears,
Interlocking in their familiar march.

For there is one path to wisdom,
Alone in pouring rain and biting frost,
The way the Lord has paved in royal blood,
The mighty of heart tremble at His coming,
His decree is the balm of the meek,
For the Lord remembers His adopted,
He opens the way to wisdom and they shall enter in.

Hey Lord,
It seems some burdens have been dripping between my fingers,
Squirming through like the good ol' 'H's with that big round 'O'.

I'm sorry Lord for letting them fall into my lap,
They don't belong here,
And you promised to take them from me,
I'm all wet now but it can't wash off the scent of your blood.

I lay upon you my future,
My ambition or lack there of,
My desires,
My fickle sense of justice,
And my grievances.