Spark Followed, New Lyrics Maybe?

I’m affected by the grief of others. Although I’m told this is not so common, I don’t want to believe that. I’m of the opinion we have what it takes to be empathetic and kind to one another, even if we forget sometimes. Hopefully we can move toward a more empathetic world by learning to listen again. How do we do that, I wonder? Listening and patience and ultimately understanding, comes from practice. That initial concern for others? We all have that! Over time, it fades into the background, but it can be more accessible if we reacquaint ourselves with caring. Care for yourself, yes, it is essential you treat yourself well, emotionally. But care for each other as well. Caring for each other scales beautifully. So let’s get started.

Yesterday, I needed to get this off my chest and so I typed away, and the mechanical clucking of the keys tapped a beat enticing enough for me to keep going until a conclusion came. This one worked the moment I started writing. Felt right. Didn’t struggle. It just came together (a rare thing). Hopefully I can make good use of this one and turn it into some lyrics. Be well and happy Thursday.

Humble Thomas (Showboat Waters)

Humble Thomas, sunken back, you march
and all these bruises in your heart
These dialogues, in tongues you can’t interpret
Did you think you would remain so parched?

Humble Thomas, you’re forgiven
Say no more, for we prefer it
Tight lipped, statue draped in valor
You ameliorate the land as droplets
bleed onto the sand

So Humble Thomas, indirectly:
Would you ever go to bat for me?
There’s a line of fire, always burning
And your fans they chose to come so early
Thomas Thomas! Up your smiling!
And I bet your stomach’s surely turning
We can float you down the river
Come one and all, come all the same
Civilians long to end your thirst in full display

Humble Thomas, drink the water
The communion of the martyr
Have your fill inside the theater
We bring deaf applause and bring back carnage

Humble Thomas, give me desert
Let me gobble up your liver
As the leaves, they turn and look away
In the shame of how we choose to play

j

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