the road flows beneath like the waves of a rolling oceanmy heartbeat strains against the rhythm of the miles and then begin the rain …a heart full of rain there’s somewhere behind me you forget about mein darkness, there’s somewhere behind meI’d rather you wouldn’t be and my heart won’t take this strain …a heart… Read More Heart Full of Rain
At the water’s edgeWe breathe our last goodbyesAnd heave a heavy sighSublime this place in time Beneath the dying lightWe pay our last respectsAnd shoulder vast regrets –‘remember things we can’t forget A bridge of sighsSweet lullabiesStars that rise at eventideWe collude and we collide Don’t lose your faith in time this time… Read More Eventide
’round and ’roundwe turn alonetogether to a place we’ve never known … and call it home just like birdsour thoughts alighton threads so fine ’til startled into flight and we thinkand we feeland we tremble at timesbut don’t talk at all
it’s been too longwe’ve been aching for daysto reach back into lightand stretch our legs we’re all running in placestand still and it’s plain to seeif only for momentwe believe we are free it’s been too longsince we stretched for the lightit’s been too longsince we took root in flight and if we cry, we cryand talk among… Read More Stretch
Originally posted on Robert Müller and the Way Home:
Lie down in the yarrow of the field Let yourself be swallowed By waves of deep green And lose the notion that it all might be a dream Upon new grass, become a love supreme An unfortunate soul trying to break through Caught in the…
It’s a matter of perspective To see outside the lines To extend beyond yourself And your borders Realize it’s all a false construct You and me is no different than us and them Unless you believe it It’s a matter of perspective
How was I supposed to knowThe time would simply come and go?With so much future in my past,How was I to know? How was I to realizeWhat grows so high must one day dieAnd fall in ashes just like snow?How was I to know? I just want to hold your handLike I did way back… Read More Regret
breath rises like prayers for the new year as we set our faces like flints with hope to the promise of spring
Robert Müller and the Way Home 