Can the Creator be found and depended upon
when hearts no longer seek it?
Can a father be without his son?
My heart can’t quite believe it.
If He is hoping and trying to reach me
he’s lost on me
and I the same
but hope is still believing.

If water gives away at the last bit of stone
can a lost loved one cross the bridge to it’s home?
Can a mother be without her child?
That story has never been shown.
If you are missing me when I am gone
you’re lost on me
and I the same
but hope is still believing.

How can I guide you if you show me away
and you, if I hide myself?
The thought is wasted, and never thought of again
like an old toy stacked on the highest shelf.
But then someone right, finally revealing picks up that toy and begins,
he reads the story
and finds me waiting
and I am finally believing.