When no way out shows,
When no parachute pulls,
When the line goes cold,
When the tale seems told,
When the day seems old,
When the player should fold,
And hope stands dulled,
Just a grope for gold,
That's when faith gets bold,
That's when belief takes hold
That's when doubt gets pulled
And dice get rolled.
Watching at the crossroads and waiting for a sign
To shine and set up house in his mind,
To hand him a directive to plod on either side.
But, he waits with no response; the message never arrives.
With a silence so deafening his heart suffers surprise,
The demise of a prize captured in midst of his mind's eyes.
To death, put his momentary hope, in the sky,
Fly away. Leaving him ruminating all day, "Why?"
He knows the reasons seem shy, evading all reply,
But the priority for intimacy between them is too high,
"Come!" moans the seeker, "Don't leave me to die!"
But stillness is all he gets, the silence begrudges a cry.
So through the struggle of uncertitude, though certainty's sure,
He crouches, sniffs the air, and then walks away from one door
Toward the other that promises nothing but still calls to his core.
Though poor, there's no treasure in store,
For the seeker to keep moving, but he's still hoping for more,
Of what, he doesn't know, though clear about who he's doing this for.
Even if that seems untrue if explored,
The seeker knows in his selfish fear to appeal to the Lord.
Many times past it's to Him he's implored,
Then questioned responses as if there'd been a questionable word.
He knows that wasn't right, because the Word is insured,
By His own blood that He poured,
To give the seeker life through the cross He endured.
With his faith re-secured and the path no longer blurred,
Now fixed on not a way, but the Way, with his troubled-heart cured,
The seeker presses forward, to wherever He sends him to go,
Finding satisfaction in the Sender, and so enabled to sow.
When no parachute pulls,
When the line goes cold,
When the tale seems told,
When the day seems old,
When the player should fold,
And hope stands dulled,
Just a grope for gold,
That's when faith gets bold,
That's when belief takes hold
That's when doubt gets pulled
And dice get rolled.
Watching at the crossroads and waiting for a sign
To shine and set up house in his mind,
To hand him a directive to plod on either side.
But, he waits with no response; the message never arrives.
With a silence so deafening his heart suffers surprise,
The demise of a prize captured in midst of his mind's eyes.
To death, put his momentary hope, in the sky,
Fly away. Leaving him ruminating all day, "Why?"
He knows the reasons seem shy, evading all reply,
But the priority for intimacy between them is too high,
"Come!" moans the seeker, "Don't leave me to die!"
But stillness is all he gets, the silence begrudges a cry.
So through the struggle of uncertitude, though certainty's sure,
He crouches, sniffs the air, and then walks away from one door
Toward the other that promises nothing but still calls to his core.
Though poor, there's no treasure in store,
For the seeker to keep moving, but he's still hoping for more,
Of what, he doesn't know, though clear about who he's doing this for.
Even if that seems untrue if explored,
The seeker knows in his selfish fear to appeal to the Lord.
Many times past it's to Him he's implored,
Then questioned responses as if there'd been a questionable word.
He knows that wasn't right, because the Word is insured,
By His own blood that He poured,
To give the seeker life through the cross He endured.
With his faith re-secured and the path no longer blurred,
Now fixed on not a way, but the Way, with his troubled-heart cured,
The seeker presses forward, to wherever He sends him to go,
Finding satisfaction in the Sender, and so enabled to sow.
