in the face of what I've seen,
and in spite of what has come of it all,
no matter how gray the sky or crowded the clouds,
between the drops of May rain that come like hail,
don't ever let me become cynical
or allow me to find anything less than beauty
in every step I take
and every beam of sunshine
penetrating part and parcel those same coming clouds.
help me to find warmth in ice
and breezes in fog,
clarity in conscience
and the divine in the decent.
help me find kindness in conspiracy
and purity in pain.
let these fires burn me down
and let them boil away the surplus
until I can stand as I may,
until I can repay my part
to those who have provided the advance.
(ps a new Jayhawks album would be nice, if You've got the time.)