Clinging to this desire
I let it define me
Now throw myself into the fire
And let it refine me
Strip me bare, break me down
Give me over to the sound
Of Your ragged breathing
Take the hammer in my hand
Let it go, I understand
This dream must die
Wither up, be crucified
For something new to live


We Are The Music-Makers

19th century poet Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy