They call it a revolving door here
Of people who come and promise hope, only to leave once the going gets rough
I'm the one at the door now and I know that, yes, it does get rough.
I can see why they do leave.

Sometimes, here, it feels like a field of fire consuming us with no door to escape,
Like a ship weathering a tsunami, but only this time without Jesus to calm our fears
I believe He is here -- I pray and hope for it.
Only it's hard to see and hold close all the time.

This land is desert and swamp.
If you were in my position, sometimes, it always feel like quicksand.
I want to stay, and yet I'm feeling the same emotions the ones that left before did,
And I love you but can understand that the grass is greener on some other side.

I need your help.
Right now it feels like I'm being consumed by fire, and I'm failing and failing and failing.
And the person I'm failing the most is you.

I know I shouldn't have tried to do this alone.
The journey is far from over, so here are some keys for the ride, a torch that I'm finally handing off.
I can't do this alone, and I haven't listened to the voice that says I don't even need to.

It's time for us to move forward together.
Maybe this time you'll have to carry me -- I'm tired, weary, and I don't know how much longer my legs can go.

Thank you for helping me realize that I am no one's savior. I'm not even my own.
I need people like you to finally remind me to stay.