In the depths of my mind
When I lie very still
I remember the wildflowers on the hill
And all that I want
Is to be in their midst
To be lifted from this long loneliness.
Did You bring me here, or did I lose my way?
Is there something that I can
Do or say
To go back to the fields
To the slow falling rain
To the breath of the wind
To the cool of the day?
Have You been in hiding, or am I just blind?
Would I be in Eden if You opened my eyes?
How can I bloom when the rivers are dry?
Here in the wasteland, here in the wasteland
I dreamed I could fly
I didn’t know where I’d go
But I am leaving behind everything I know
And I find myself here
Where no rain ever falls
Maybe I am a wildflower after all.
Yes I am a wildflower after all.
You own the whole earth
But You give us the land.
You leave us to blossom
You never demand.
Maybe this heartbreak is only Your hands
Making a garden
You’re making a garden
There are streams in the desert
Your well won’t run dry.
There are streams in the desert
Your well won’t run dry
This is freedom from prison
I am fully alive.
There are streams in the desert
Your well won’t run dry.
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