Count On It

Count on It


Two thousand windows
Three thousand doors
Four thousand echoes
Five thousand wars
Six hundred preachers
Seven hundred drums
Eight broken dishes
Fingers and thumbs

It's all on your shoulders
Weighing you down
A sense of things ending
And chasing you round
Nothing has happened
Since time was a lad
Only the counting
That change never had

Nine new people
Ten million more
All of them wanting
To enter your door
They count on your presence
They ask to come in
They bring bread and fishes
And make your head spin

One thousand dreams
Waiting for night
One thousand sleepers
Ready to fight
One empty safe
One stolen heart
One life of wonder
And then we all part

© Steve Bentley