Wandering In The Valley

Wandering in the valley
of long ochre grass,
it is something I pray for,
something cannot do.

For I am buried
in the darkest place,
no wilderness to roam
and no feelings of home.

So what step do I make?
Which earth do I dig?
To release all inside,
so I may live again.

Emptiness in love,
with a man cold as his heart inside.
Where should go?
What shall I do?
When all is now lost and I have no feelings new.

Oh how blind is innocent faith,
Oh how they capture,
What bitterness they they hold.

Blessed is the woman

Who can hold her own.

The Artist. 2005