Listen carefully as the sand stirs still
in a barren land of thoughts and dreams.
How quietly the wind does sing;
how distant beingness seems.
And there, but one, stand you alone,
lost and wandering slow.
Afraid to seek the hiding truth,
afraid of what they know.
And yet, you linger now and then
as if the sun is watching still,
testing your strength in this foreign land,
admiring your boastful will.
And so you carry on the path,
picking branches and twigs of past
and bundle them up in a stack of gloat
until the pile has grown so vast.
Each breath you take, each step you make,
it is sure to always follow.
Dear girl, but do you know…
How this tumbleweed will grow?
How sharp the thorns of love you’ve placed
will jab the heartbroke souls?
How smiling footprints shall be erased
as the tumbleweed rolls.
And yet you seek to venture on,
without a drop of care.
But still you wonder in your mind,
why no one else is there.
But little do you know, I’m here
watching over you.
Yet when I reach my hand to help
like a slithering snake you shoo.
You fear I am a vulture here
to pick your flesh and bone away.
But all I seek is to understand,
yet, you refuse to let me stay.
Tumbling, tumbling, your words keep stumbling,
as you proceed to build this show
of mightiness and nonchalance.
How hopeless this tumbleweed rolls.
The grains of time have aged your years
but not a second did you grow.
Still a foolish child indeed,
how piteous this tumbleweed rolls.
I’ve seen the angry passions spewed,
the misery and woven woes.
But dear girl, you can’t be helped,
until away this tumbleweed goes.
You’ve had your time to face the truth
but your vanity, you’ve yet to control.
And now I ask you one last time,
how does the tumbleweed roll?