Hurry

Driving at full speed ... on the highway of my choosing

Entering the banks of fog ... hoping all will turn out well

Depending on what I feel ... afraid that I might be loosing

What someone else paid for ... that I know very well

Flying by the many wrecks of people just like me

I feel so sorry for them to ease my own conscience

When I hit the deck I know ... and I’ll surely see 

The love-line of my selfishness in my palace of pretense

The splinter and the log ... wandering through my eye

They don’t know one another unless introduced by Christ

The splinter I’ll hand in love ... to the folks in my life

And the log my dear brother ... I’ll have engraved by my wife

Jan Wienen