Twenty-six letters formed into words For all of our joys and all of our sorrows Twenty-six reasons to sit here all day Trying to hear what I want to say Just a few octaves shaped into chords Sing of this beauty, tell of this war Twenty-six hours, two I make up For learning a language I've never heard of Search the darkness, don't run from it The night traveler is full of light Singers they pick up their hotel pens And write of the loneliness the highway brings Maybe the strain of it tears at my seams But I'm ready for something bigger than me Call it my disease or my medicine But my third eye is busy opening The birds of sadness still perch on my tree They stare down at me Now I don't look away Search the darkness, don't run from it The night traveler is full of light *chorus adapted from the Rumi poem "Search The Darkness"