In childhood bed with wheezing lung, I couldn’t sleep just gasp,
I’d set my mind on storybook scenes and roads and maps.
Burdens change, that wimpy kid, anxious and alone,
Found solace when by foot or car he set out on his own.
A fledgling man in mothers’ house, never felt at home,
Find a squiggle on a hiker’s guide, lace up and out to roam.
Bottled up with teenage rage, always asking why,
Hoping that there’s a god who hears when shouting at the sky.
Inside my room with panting breast, I need a God of wild outside,
Who places stars in motion and boundaries for the tides.
Found solace when by foot or car he set out on his own.
A fledgling man in mothers’ house, never felt at home,
Find a squiggle on a hiker’s guide, lace up and out to roam.
Bottled up with teenage rage, always asking why,
Hoping that there’s a god who hears when shouting at the sky.
Inside my room with panting breast, I need a God of wild outside,
Who places stars in motion and boundaries for the tides.
In a scorched and aching place upon a desert path,
Atop a climb a tiny stream yields a patch of grass.
Hope rises up beside a sob for a future yet unseen,
Creation reminds me once again that you promise pastures green.
In open field by red painted barns, wild geese go drafting by,
Or crashing waves on white-washed beach, I cease from asking why,
There’s a hint, an unbroken place, nature writes a note,
In honey-sweet Wisteria, maple-syrup creosote.
When I’m dying and can’t catch a breath, I need a God of wild outside,
Who thunders in the heavens and makes chariots His ride.
Hope rises up beside a sob for a future yet unseen,
Creation reminds me once again that you promise pastures green.
In open field by red painted barns, wild geese go drafting by,
Or crashing waves on white-washed beach, I cease from asking why,
There’s a hint, an unbroken place, nature writes a note,
In honey-sweet Wisteria, maple-syrup creosote.
When I’m dying and can’t catch a breath, I need a God of wild outside,
Who thunders in the heavens and makes chariots His ride.
