In search of the somethings we noticed we missed.
The songs we've not sung and the lips we've not kissed.
Something as vague and solid as doubt.
Something we know that we've now gone without.
Maybe the something was orthodoxy.
Ridged and structured and easy to see.
Maybe the something was caution and fear.
Shifting and vaporous and easy to hear.
Maybe the something is how we once felt.
Hands raised up high and knees in a knelt.
Maybe it's context maybe it's spirit.
Maybe it's sense if you're willing to hear it.
Something we want to have just like before.
Something familiar and just a bit more.
Something we lost when we let something win.
Something amiss in the service of Him.
Stop using "Something" to hide from your choice.
Nothing's as clear as a choir in voice.
Say what you chose to forsake and what for.
God knows the motives, the reasons, the score.
Knows what you said, what you did, what you meant.
Knows how the news read, and who pays the rent.
Knows all the cattle and one thousand hills.
Knows what was sacrificed, knows who to kill.
You're not missing anything you didn't put down.
Not treading in water you said wouldn't drown.
Not walking waves and no roosters crowing.
The something you're missing is you plainly knowing.