An allusion to distance while depth is elusive
While you’re living inside, they’ll be plenty obtrusive
Is it hard to give life, an abyss, any meaning?
Of the precipice here, on the edge where I’m leaning
Is it all torn apart, inner mind cataclysm?
Do we place it on faith or intellectual schism
As created by man, laid to waste by his hand?
Do we sit here & watch while the storm crosses land?
And so what of sending prayers?
Heaven stares through all the years
Do we drown with the waves
Trust in someone who saves?
Overheard over there
Battle stations are clear
How the hell do we get
over here, over there?
– Neal Visher/Dirt – 17-01-2017