Such warmness barely hiding neath the eyes,
Your saints herald imperfect beauty finding
Home. in all this immortality.
And carried we are deep and deeper in,
Through fleeting fires and griefs to joy inexpress.

I fancy myself a mad pianist,
Striking measured fragments on the keys,
Growing ever familiar with my dear motifs,
Which layer into paragraphs and scripts,
To run as sprites through copper wires,
And swell into a bare-metal dream.

I'll be down the stairs,
Not fully through but on.
And on I search for words in pairs,
But quickly I am gone,
Back up the stairs for all my cares,
Whisk me away to laughter's song,
To share a thought and off be down the stairs.

On the road,
We’re heading to that singing city again,
Looking to honour his name,
To be a people that love to praise,
For me and my house we will follow the Lord.

He’s been gracious to us,
Patient with us,
A blessing to us,
A saviour for us,
And He’s not done loving on us.

It’s a new year for Him to say:
That He still has plans for me,
That He’s here to stay,
And it’s so good to be by His side.