Turned to Stone
By John Herlihy

Every once in a blue moon I simply turn to stone;
Every feeling I have ever had but a candle blown.
The day begins and we think that we are on track;
The morning just blooms like the flowers out back.
I intend to go about my business without any worry;
I just take one step at a time forward without hurry.

But life has a way of leading us to the brink of despair,
Looking beyond the edge into an eternity beyond repair.
Such moods have a permanency promising never to end;
A cloud invades the mind and we can no longer pretend.
That is when I pull down the shutters and turn to stone;
Every feeling I have ever experienced but a candle blown.

I am a sympathetic type and put myself in other’s shoes;
I know what it can mean in life to simply feel the blues.
When I see another person in the throes of some misery.
I myself feel caught in the chill of emotion most wintery.
That is when I feel winter blues inside and turn to stone;
Everything I have ever suffered leads me to utter a moan.

But I am no Jack of Spades and winter is not my season;
In order to turn despair into hope, I simply find a reason.
When I turn to stone, I gather inner forces to contrive
A way out of the morass so I can with dignity survive.
Life is but an hourglass until the flowing sands run dry;
Our moods resemble the weather; no reason to ask why.