Driven forth by hopes of expectation
A little man is walking near warm sea
With a cockeyed ear to every situation
And mad cows in his periphery

So eager for every happy ending
Bears witness with unerring certainty
Never once a hint of any deviation
From this only norm he has ever been

On a wooden bench tainted by graffiti
A fattened man laughs through flyblown teeth
Calling him weird for faulty introspection
Born of artless views purposely serene

“No rafter ever stops a rain fall
Spilling into slick streets then flood each way
Walking through lagoons of life’s own creation
And history becomes a blinding spray

Standing in a room of mirrors
Take each point of view from what you see
Where broken glass illuminates real darkness
Exposing a painful reality

As this life flows through
This world is more like me”

With no pause that little man is grinning
Shouting once again on hopes and dreams
Where our battle field is in what’s external
And faith doesn’t dribble from dampened seams

“Hard rain always feeds parched soil
It washes down each boulevard of pain
With each storm you can lose direction
Or rebuild from every hurricane

Mirrors are one way reflections
Always looking back at what you’ve seen
Direction stands disguised in perception
Dressed in where you expect to be

As this world flows through
This life is more than you or me“