Surrender your grasp, whatever your cause,
on the future and past, for the sake of a pause.
We've closed the gates, the keys are hung up,
there's no early or late, but there's more than enough.
There's a meaning, a meeting, a moreness, a mist
on streaming and reading that already exists.
The latch is on, the curtains are drawn,
and the same old songs herald the dawn.
"...not even a mouse..." echoes around,
if we had hatches on our house they'd be battened down.
The fire's blazing, the washing is dry,
the children are gazing for clues in the sky.
There's a feeling, a freeing, a focus, a fizz
on dreaming and healing and those that we miss.
Whether you are inclined or firmly against,
there's finally time to finally rest.
This moment's the truth, whatever you know,
we've nothing to do and nowhere to go.
It's the privilege of biding shrouded in peace,
while others are stifled by siege without cease.
There's a greening, a greeting, a gallop, a gliss
on scheming and reaching the ultimate pitch.
The time will progress, wherever you are,
and I mean to spend it counting my stars.
For the sake of a pause, on the future and past,
whatever your cause, surrender your grasp.
