The Vase

A song I wrote recently, trying to express the longing to know what your true calling is. I've also tried to write music for it...I'll have to keep working on that.

Broken pieces,
Pieces of a vase.
A vase from your grandmother
Long ago.
The pieces are lying
So lovely and still.
Waiting and wondering,
Crushed and beautiful.

The bits of a soul,
All the ragged edges,
Are waiting and wondering,
Waiting for their cue.
For the night to end,
The dawn to break.
Breaking is painful,
But then it's beautiful.

Singing where
Where do I go now.
Something hold me together,
Bring the pieces back together.
Hold me tight
Don't let me go.

A prison can be beautiful,
Dedication.
A story is told
On the cold bleak walls.
A thousand voices,
A thousand more echoes.
They sing
And why can't I.

Singing where
Where do I go now.
Something hold me together,
Bring the pieces back together.
Hold me tight
Don't let me go.

And the broken pieces,
The memories are there,
The sweetest foundation,
Sweet roots of a tree.
The vase has been mended.
The pieces are singing.
They are echoing.

Echoing.