... Why under these stars is it so easy to let go and just believe?
Why do you become so murky the moment I enter my house?
Why are you so hard to hear the second I enter my work place?
When trouble raises it's voice; why do I pretend that I barely know you?
Yet under that celestial canvas of yours it's so much easier to remember who you are and who I am?
Why is it so easy to believe that you created me and found a way to save me.
Yet when it comes to my problems, worries, and fears I find a way to forget who you are?
When you tell me your yoke is light and your burden is easy I seem to prefer the weight of my own burden as sweat beads drip off my face.
It doesn't make sense.
But under your stars it all makes sense.
If I weren't renting I'd consider a homemade skylight in my house to fix this problem.