Hearts. There are five beating in this house on the edge of town where the sun is shining and the wind is  blowing the sheets and blankets dry hanging out on the line. Five hearts that all go together and some of those hearts call me mother, one calls me his wife, but when I look in the mirror the girl keeps asking, "Who am I?"

I drove eastbound on the highway, Saturday night on the way to play a show. Up ahead I saw break lights and smoke, people getting out of there cars and running to something I did not see, but I slowed and then passed what could only be called tragedy. By the looks of it one heart had stopped and I cried because mine beat on. And I cried because one minute there was driving and then the next there was a crash and I was powerless to help and so I kept on track praying for the victim and giving thanks for what I have and hearts beat in rhythm and life goes from good to bad and then back to good again.

Bones. Too many to count kinda like the moments and people I can't live without but still I wonder why I'm here and if I'm wasting my now and bones are like buildings housing souls and hearts and doubts and thank God I'm not alone trying to figure all this out.

I cried, then I recovered and then I played the show on Saturday night to old friends and strangers and I drove home and made it an early night. The next morning I awoke to darkness but I had it in my mind that the sun rises like it always rises no matter how I'm feeling at the time.

"O thou that changest not, abide with me."