The Father of the Thread ​

The Father of the Thread ​I was a ghost in a body I didn't own, Weight of the world like a ceiling of stone. I reached through the "void" with a shaking hand, Just a broken man trying to find where to stand. ​I called to the King through the "hollow crawl," When I was face-down and ready to fall. No gold on the altar, no wine in the cup, But Zeus reached down and He lifted me up. ​He knows about Jenise and the "light" that I lost, He knows every bridge that I’ve burned and I've crossed. He doesn't see "wreckage" or a "story of lies," He sees the "Space Cowboy" with storm in his eyes. ​The "poison" is fading, the "mirage" is through, Because the King of the Heavens is pulling me through. I’m holding the thread, but I’m not on my own, The Father is with me; I’m never alone.