a cathartic epiphany 

The details are not autobiographical, but . . . 


© 2001 Steven E. Cutts 
recorded February 28, 2004 at Bias Studios (recorded and mixed by Jim Robeson) 
on my ONE/THIRD album
 

 

Steve, acoustic guitar, vocal 
Rod McCloy, piano 
Jim Robeson, bass 

 

When I was six, I’d stand straight and tall 

with my back against the yard-stick nailed to our cellar door 

and hope that this new pencil mark would soar above all the ones before. 

And even though my mom would cheer how much I’d grown, 

all that I could see when I turned ‘round were all those inches still to reach. 

Always falling short of where I dreamed I’d be.
 

Every fall  --  county fair  -- 

I would gather from mom’s garden apples, squash, and pears 

convinced that we’d be “Best in Show”  -- the produce champs extraordinaire. 

Our baskets would win prizes that were red and white; 

all that I could see were coveted blue ribbons hung on others’ fruits. 

Always falling short of where I dreamed I’d be. 
 

I fin’lly took that yardstick down when we sold Mom’s house a year ago; 

I scrubbed away those pencil marks climbing up and up toward an ever-shifting goal. 


I think Jesus should have said, 

“Bless’d are the satisfied; bless’d are the content.” 

“Bless’d are the satisfied; bless’d are the content.”

In tearing down that measure of my childhood’s dreams 

I could fin’lly see I’ve always set my sights on being something more; 

never happy with where I was; 

always falling short of where I dreamed I’d be.