Living in Sand

What was the last thing I heard?
Was it an offer?
There is trouble in your voice
though I can't hear it.

It's like I'm living in sand
and you give me your hand.
I'll take it if you let me make this
more than it was
and less than it could be.
Rising from the dust of the Mohave.

Explainations left in the dark,
like something's missing.
I've risen; I've become
what you needed me to be.

So now I'm living on land.
Make me believe and
I'll climb to the peak if you
let me find release
in the wind of the storm
rising from the oceans of indesicion

And you.