House of Ryanne: Sooner Or Later

Friday, July 3, 2009

Sooner Or Later

Come back and look at me
Give me a reason
Tell me your problems
I'll listen while you complain
Life slipped from the fingers
Like sand within one's grasp
The tighter you hold
The less you have
Sooner or later
Dreams shatter and hopes are gone
I am a believer
Help me believe in you

Come back and tell me why
Give me your life
Tell me what you want
I'll listen while you complain
Have you found your life yet
Don't be a lost ship without a compass
The more you avoid it
The worse it becomes
Sooner or later
Bonds are broken and love gone cold
I am a believer
Help me believe in me

Come back and hold me
Give me your friendship
Tell me your feelings
I'll listen to every word your breathe
We are lonely souls who deny
I am over with ignoring the obvious
The more I run from it
The more I cry about it
Sooner or later
The wound only gets bigger
I am a believer
Help me believe in us

~~This poem is inspired by a song by Switchfoot.
I dedicate this poem to a friend whom I had a major fall out with earlier. I miss you a lot tonight. I hope you are reading.

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Inspiration Within

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!