On cruise-control, six lanes wide
Neon lights flood persistence of vision
Linger along the peripheral roadside
The exits are under construction
And the lanes begin to divide
The pressures detain –
Same to insane
Until grace comes inside
I am not along for any ride
Or servant to a steel cage
I am not certain
Of conflicting maps, a faulty gauge
I am not in the backseat
But I should not drive
To a place I cannot arrive
Knowing I am still alive …
The path is one lane and dirt
Along trees and up a hillside
Something foreign is on my face
A grin where I once sighed
Flat tires and road blocks
Off-road when I died –
Since the map I claim
Nothing is the same
When grace comes inside
I see – the point of reference
To walk a path of difference
I believe – therefore I endure
Though sometimes onto a detour
I act – for the matters of forever
With grace under pressure …
