Face to face with a flood;
time flies by me, as if it never cared...
And the flood keeps rushing on,
wanting to be stopped.
How long will I have to pile bricks
to heighten the dam
enough so that I may leave it and walk away?
Bricks I keep piling, but not fast enough;
and time will not stop for me.
I am soaked, drenched, wet--
but not miserable, no;
A little sore, a little ache,
A little thing not going as I tried,
Won't make me fall, won't make me stop--
Bricks I keep on piling, one after the other.
Dreaming of a land which needs no dam
no bricks, no pained arms.
And dreams release a stream of determination
rushing in me like a flood my own---
Oh flood I face, you have found in me
a soul refusing to be washed away.
Let me take on what bricks need to be taken
and get done the things that need to be done
Before the land of my dreams.