To these old, familiar -

Oh! But to hope, one day, to belong in some place.
Or pray, perchance, to get ahead in this race.
To run right past all that is fleeting.
Remove from these eyes all they are seeing.

To have a chance without taking.
To keep the faith
without breaking.
To be in love
without falling.
To be in ones shoes
without walking.

These are the bittersweet longings I hold.
The winterswept, barren places I know.
Languish the fear that has kept us near,
to these old, familiar sufferings.