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AMIDST THE RUSH

The clock clicks hard beneath my skin.
The day intrudes before I’m mine.

Before I breathe, the race begins.
A thousand voices command “Climb.”

More
More

They call it hunger. Call it drive.
Keep climbing just to feel alive.

They promise more beyond the hill,
As if enough were farther still.
But every finish takes its toll.
I will not outrun my soul.

Amidst the rush, I hear the call
I will not outrun my soul.

I try to choose the slower road.
My feet fall back into the race.

Fear wears the voice I’ve always known
And calls its panic common grace.

More
More

What if the rushing world is right?
What if I fade beyond its sight?

They promise more beyond the hill,
As if enough were farther still.
But every finish takes its toll.
I will not outrun my soul.

Amidst the rush, I hear the call
I will not outrun my soul.

If I do not become more, do I become less?

And if I become less, what cannot be taken?

Still

Amidst the rush,
Beneath the noise,
Beneath the names,

It keeps calling my name.

The morning never fears the dawn.
The river never earns the sea.
No forest begs to claim the ground.

It roots and all its branches breathe.

Perhaps stillness has its own pace.
Perhaps I do not need this race.

They promise more beyond the hill,
As if enough were farther still.
But every finish takes its toll.
I will not outrun my soul.

Though doubt and fear still follow near,
I’ll walk with them and persevere.
Reverence asks a slower way.
Then let me walk and choose my pace.

Amidst the rush, I hear the call
I will not outrun my soul.

I will not outrun my soul.

If you find me standing still,
Do not mistake my roots for weakness.

Perhaps the rooted also rise.
Perhaps deep roots can change the skies.