Return to Me

It would be so much easier to give blood from these veins,
take a pound of flesh from my side,
have my guitar and their old tunes,
even my dreams that occupy my motivation,
but to have more room in this mind,
to surrender these thoughts,
these instincts and old highways,
its so hard to do.
Sometimes the theory of take is so pleasing,
but then love would loose its name,
and could never be trusted again.

So what must i see oh Lord
to let the way side collect my discards?
What must i see
to let this old world and its pattern
in me dim out?

Oh how your love operates,
You give though i give nothing.

Let this wake me!