Well it always comes to this,
so busy living life,
I become the god of my own storylines;
and with excuse after excuse
about having no time for You,
I run round in circles til I stop for breath

I sit down to decide, to plan, regroup, re-strategize,
having forgotten it's no use;
so of this tangled mess of strands that I've made of my life,
let me pick the path that pleases You.

Well it's no wonder that tonight,
like so many nights,
with a vengeance Sister Sleep eludes me still;
trying to be the mastermind,
forgetting there's a line
between letting and not letting go the wheel

But after all these years You're still here--
I can see You now,
crossing Your arms, shaking Your head,
like a parent to a child
I spy a gentle smile as You
let me pick the path that pleases You

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