The storm never really ceases

Clinging to a piece of driftwood

Fingernails deep in wood, splinters 

The sun is not a loving being

Clinging to a piece of driftwood

The cold rain grows lighter — hope, but

The sun is not a loving being

It is fire, and it will not save me

The cold rain grows lighter — hope, but

It does not stop, only grows lighter 

It is fire, and it will not save me

This brief reprieve, this cruel warmth

And no, it does not stop, only grows lighter

Only for cold, dark clouds once again to gather

This brief reprieve, this cruel warmth,

Does not change the fact: there is no escape

Only for cold, dark clouds once again to gather —

There is no point in hope, it

Does not change the fact: there is no escape

There is no lighthouse

There is no point in hope, it 

Will not show me the way home and

There. is. no. lighthouse.

Does such a thing exist? I have been lost for so

many

years

…

It will not show me the way home

Forever I have sunk in and out of these waters, no anchor

Does such a thing exist? I have been lost forever now

No matter the prayer, I always am sinking in and out

Forever I have sunk in and out of these waters, no anchor

Cold, freezing rain, heat of the sun, on and off it comes — nothing changes

No matter the prayer, I always am sinking in and out

And he chooses deafness every time