There's a soundtrack: Listen.
We start here. We go back. We come around again.
Some things have happened.
You see?
I wasn't sacred of anything. I knew who made the Light. and I knew He made it right. And it Lit me.
The Word came in and said: move. And we moved.
Well.
I moved. The literal kind.
And it was good.
Is good.
Slow down.
Things change: things stay the same. We write, cry, build, break, fly, fall.
We fall so flat splat useless on the pavement.
But in the tide.
But we move. Ooh how we move.
And then?
We
come
so
incredibly
undone.
We go running to the shore, to the tide, to the waves.
Throw ourselves into the drama of it all, lost in a riptide, lost in the days, lost lost lost.
You think you know. A person. The girl. The words.
You think she'd know. The words, the waves, the Light.
You think you'd know where she was going.
Here.
There's this story I thought I'd like.
This girl decides to quit her life and jump into some old ocean.
She clings to all the waves that were, and something of a rescue in the blur.
She hammers the nails in the pedestal legs she builds herself.
She settles in. But those damned nails.
What did you think would come?
But of course.
She moves in the water and
they come unstuck.
And she runs again. Into the riptide, over and over. Washing over and over.
In the water. In the little hours. In quiet conversations.
And there's something good.
And she thinks she sings the words right.
But I'm afraid she's singing the words wrong.
She is singing the words wrong.
And the nails are no good
But she's still moving.
Even now.
She wants to know.
Who and when and how.
She's just gotta gotta know.
There is no other way.
That Light Maker Breaker Creator knows she knows the Words.
And there is no other way.
And her little pedestal platform doesn't need those nails.
Doesn't need legs at all.
She's sailing on the riptide.
She's gotta, gotta know.
She's gotta know the words. The Light Words--The Right Words.
She's on the water, above the water, in the water.
Not in the water.
She's the on-the-water-above-the-water, kind of in the water.
And she knows the words.
And she won't write them wrong.
I'm on the water, I know the words.
I'm through above beyond the riptide in the wind.
I know the Words, the Light, the Love.
I'm not sacred of anything.
I know who made the Light.
And I know He made it right.
And it Lights me Floats me Lifts me.
I won't write the words wrong.
I won't write the words wrong.
I won't sing the words wrong.
