She’s no martyr, won’t keep trying
to pull a thrashing man to shore,
if it means she’s going under,
down your desperate need for more.

She’s a dream you had, a fantasy
or a nightmare sound you heard.
You wake, it has fled in whispers
of a thousand angry words.

Rub the bitter from your eyes,
release those well-worn fears,
the rage that you manipulate
to crowd out all the tears.

She may have pierced the armor,
rent the mail of pain you wear,
compelled by her compassion
to touch what’s hidden there.

Warning voices all ignored,
she stole past your defense,
nothing as strong as gentleness,
nothing so gentle as real strength.

You may not see her face again,
may never speak her name.
Each may force the other to bear
the burden of the blame.

But a little piece of every laugh
you shared is in your smiles,
the words to every song you sang
an echo across the miles.
And soon you’ll see that other dreams
you dream can all come true,
‘cause dreams begin with hope inside,
and hope begins in you.