there's an unmarked path behind me
where the grass is beaten down
a faint impression left that i was there
there's a dusty road unwinding
from this patch of fallen ground
where the steps of all too many laid it bare
and i scan out each direction
one horizon to the next
and long to sense a sense of where to go
too many words arising
from the verse of ancient texts
that fail to give a peace that i might know
you seem to speak most clearly
when the voice is small and still
and trusted when you're nowhere to be found
the path that should be taken
journeys up a lonely hill
to what once was god-forsaken holy ground
the voices by the millions
each one crying to be heard
each one is sure no doubt its message true
in pictures and in letters
shared in endless spoken words
and each one too convinced it comes from you
you tell me lift my footprint
and the right path will appear
unclear until my boot heel touches ground
and from one step to others
all the questions still come near
the old place like the new one that i found
you seem to speak most clearly
when the voice is small and still
and trusted when you're nowhere to be found
the path that should be taken
journeys up a lonely hill
to what once was god-forsaken holy ground