I Used to Think

I used to think that we would never know enough

That we were caught between a shadow and a bluff

A scent so fleeting, so misleading, us

A storm cloud’s passion

Spirit, ashes, us

We can sink our teeth in whatever fare we want

We can fill our rooms or leave them vacant, waiting

Endless options, rooms of boxes, us

Filled or empty

Feigned or living, us

And when we cross the street

And leave the salesmen wagging tongues

Behind the cemetery field

Is the wild open

We were meant to be a tributary running down

Cause the valley’s meant to be

To be filled with children