I don’t feel you tonight
The mood just don’t seem right
I wish your were around.
I don’t even think you’re
Here with me, all alone in fear
I know you’re not around.
You’re not around, you’re not around;
You are nowhere to be found
You cannot be around, you’re not around.
The moon seems darker than
Before you promised me,
That you would always be around.
Now I’m sitting here just doubting
All you said and hoping
You’ll come back around.
Come back around, Come back around;
I’m wondering where you are right now
And hoping you’ll come back around, come back around.
I remember now, you said
I won’t always feel
But still you’ll be closer than around.
You promised me you’d make your home
Inside me, and always you will guide me
Reminding you’re around.
You’re all around, you’re all around;
You are everywhere I look
You are closer than around, your all around
© 2009 Kyle Turver
I am a graduate student at Northwest University studying Theology and Culture. Here I will post my reflections, essays, and prose as I study to better understand both Christ and Culture. I value discussion and as such, ALWAYS welcome comments and thoughts.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
The Fall of Progress
Build the tower toward the Heavens,
Upward progress is our goal.
Brick by brick with our two hands,
The tower'll be unbreakable!
Higher! Higher! No rest aloud,
Rest is for the weak in mind.
Crumble! Crumble! down it comes,
Upward progress is our goal.
Brick by brick with our two hands,
The tower'll be unbreakable!
Higher! Higher! No rest aloud,
Rest is for the weak in mind.
Crumble! Crumble! down it comes,
Who forgot the foundation?
The tower ebbed down brick by brick,
and progress was defeated.
Our home was pried from calloused hands,
Which left us cold and naked.
We were once a mighty city,
With one great tale of glory.
But now were strewn about the world,
Enslaved to our own stories.
and progress was defeated.
Our home was pried from calloused hands,
Which left us cold and naked.
We were once a mighty city,
With one great tale of glory.
But now were strewn about the world,
Enslaved to our own stories.
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Poetry,
Popular Culture,
Theology and Culture
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