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Less

And everything feels like regression

Back to the mean, into the lean

Years of famine

Of hoarding, of cramming

Dull lives into bleak days

Until the haze would raise

And we'd be paralyzed by forgotten rays

Of promise. Let's be honest,

The moment passed, the die was cast

And I was carved out of dust and ash.

Yes, I am a ware in a peddler's stash

Anything for a little quick cash

I am the king of a valley of trash

For every time I've thrown myself away

In the hope of a yesterday

That holds no future sway.

Maybe I'm just here on my own

Maybe I thought I was here all alone

Maybe we're aliens desperate for home

In a world to which we've never belonged.

And maybe simpler thoughts convey more

Perhaps simpler words preserve lore

It might be that simpler waves can save shores

And the overly complex destroys all in its wake.

For art is the magic of give and of take

It's not always better to add more to make

A masterpiece.

So in this art that You're making

I'm tired of faking

And pretending I have good gifts to bring

All that I am is here for the shaking

That brings down and rebuilds all things.

So come ease this aching

I'm here for the taking

And make this world better with less

Take me away

Take me away

And save all the rest

Give us grace, give us love, grant us rest

And Lord, of myself, give me less.