In a room that leaks with sky,
In a yellow field- the invisible scaffolding.
In the mid-point of a wave,
Find a tool for beginning.
It is nothing at the start,
And nowhere it wants to go,
But for a pushing of the heart
And every small thing that you know.
Every small thing that you feel,
Every orphaned child of past,
Everything you thought was real,
Everything you hoped would last.
After everything is gone
And every enemy is asleep,
Will come a pushing of the heart,
And every small thing that you need.
In a room that leaks with sky,
In a yellow field- the invisible scaffolding.
In the mid-point of a wave,
Find a tool for beginning.
