Perhaps a seat upon the roof, a sturdy perch above eye line
Where I could sit in peace, at night and watch the steady ceiling spin,
And ask the planets as they pass if they have heard, or,
"Do they know" just what the world expects of me?
I seem to find, though efforts great, I cannot have, fall short my reach,
This, not for you, this will not fit, have not the cred, what have you done?
But on the roof at night up high, there might be some celestial clue,
A word spelled out in font of size that sets my troubled, foundered mind.
'Takes in to care the "all of it," from tiny cell to Hubble's quest,
And where I fit, if fit I do. I hope I do. I'm yearning to...
I seem to find, though wonders great, I cannot solve, fall short my thoughts,
I missed my chance. The ship has left. The horse is gone. The horse is gone.
Two stories up I'll stay 'till dawn and barely blink to miss the thing,
This faith I have in heaven's nod; there must be someone knows my part.
The sky, my constant, calming gift; with tired heart I'll search it's text,
And look for what I need to do. What is it that I need to do?
...just tell me what I need to do.