Slip Inside

Slip back inside, to the past.
Well, we wanted to clean the air,
the windshield heals it - our lives.

But giving directions,
suffocating the air - me.
Well, it's nice to be able to
breathe.
So breathe and live today,
if you can.
See like the wind,
like the half mile of stoplights.

Boudaries between people,
between roads,
cars in a hurry.
I tried to be faithful,
but it fell short -
the red light turned yellow.

Who really was driving then?
Who can really tell if it was summer,
spring or fall?
It starts as soon as I more forward.
We're going in that direction.
But, well - sand paper, grit.
Am I being sharpened?
Can I see outside the window?

A moment passes, like decades,
that is tens of years to improve,
to shine that spirit -
or at least clean it for the
next time serving.
But other looks, behind a few minutes.

The meter runs, but there is no
meter but my heart - I yearn for
a kind of peace.
You know the kind.
That guy died on a cross
some time ago.
It happened.
I have to be able to see clearly.