Right hand reaching high
Hoping to grasp the next branch on the beanstalk
Both feet slipping
No foothold
Not touching the ground
Suspended in grace
It is my heart that fails
My soul that bends so easily
With the shifting wind of a pub song
So easily swept away, picked up
Turned around
Just enough for me to find pain in coming back down
The yearnings of my shell lead me closer to Sheol
Until I remember that I am capable of nothing more on my own
Once more I empty my hands
So, that I can pick up, again, what He has given me
And walk on
With ease of mind and soul
m e a n d e r s 