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Sleeping At Last
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Taste
I am alive, I am awake.
I am aware of what light tastes like.
The curtains drawn, the table's set;
I wanna be, I wanna be, at my best.
It's bittersweet, it's poetry.
Careful pruning of my dead leaves.
It's holy ground, a treasure chest;
I'm on my knees and only scratch the surface.
Like fists unraveling, like glass unshattering.
Breaking all the rules, breaking bread again.
Swallowing light, 'til we're fixed from the inside.
Out of the woods, out of the dark.
I'm well aware of the shadows in my heart.
I wanna feel, tectonic shifts;
I wanna be, I wanna be, astonished.
I wanna be astonished.
So I propose a toast:
To fists unraveling, to glass unshattering.
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To breaking all the rules, to breaking bread again.
We're swallowing light, we're swallowing our pride.
We're raising our glass, 'til we're fixed from the inside.
'Til we're fixed from the inside.
We're nothing less than a work in progress.
Sacred text on Post-It notes.
We only speak of a world in pieces.
Let's make a map of what matters most:
Where every fracture is a running river.
Leading us back to our golden coast.
Here's to showing light,
To fists unraveling, to glass unshattering.
To breaking all the rules, to breaking bread again.
We're swallowing light, we're swallowing our pride.
We're raising our glass, 'til we're fixed from the inside.
'Til we're fixed from the inside.
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