This thing: a song

Nearly three years had passed, and I hadn't been able to write a single song. I guess I just didn't have it in me. But no more. If you don't want to waste your precious time reading the gargantuan posts that cover the past three years of my life, you can read the words to this song I scribbled down, and you'll catch the gist of my main message.

This thing

       Aches with the broken
       Listens to frozen hearts
This thing
       Bleeds on the inside
       Throbs with the scars people don’t know they have.

We want to give it
But we can’t
We want to feel it
But we can’t
The lock is double-bolted and we’ve forgotten the key.

Yet this thing
       Keeps right on giving
       Knocks at the door of our hearts
This thing
       Keeps speaking and speaking
Stronger than death
Unquenchable
Real.

We want to give it
But we can’t
We want to feel it
But we can’t
The lock is double-bolted and we’ve forgotten the key.

Then this thing
Breaks us, it burns us
It cuts us right open
And shows us our hearts

And somehow, I know
That this thing which has torn me apart
       aches with my brokenness
       hears all my silent screams
       throbs with my scars and pumps blood to every bare organ.

Because
It wears my scars on its heart
Every stripe is a line
With a song to impart
Its blood now runs in my veins

And I know what this thing is called

Its name is Love
Its name is Love

It breaks and it heals
It breathes out hope
       And it aches with my brokenness
       Hears all my silent screams
       Throbs with my scars and pumps blood
It gives, gives, and gives without return

Its name is Love
Its name is Love.

And I couldn’t give what I didn’t have
And I couldn’t feel what I didn’t let in
But now the door is open wide
Now the door is open wide.

Show me this Love
It will hurt
But I want to breathe it
I want to breathe it.