CLOSE
In this world time is a shadow
that moves and bends in waves.
Numbers crawl slow as molasses,
and hope furls in song.
I whisper in the night of time.
We don't have many seconds to spare,
on the edge of the shadow that bends,
in time that's wanted wear,
we move in grace and space that mends.
Space is beckoning to the night.
On the end of life we sing in song.
Hope is burrowed into the light.
Love will conquer all our wrongs.
It's snowing, it's raining,
all of life is abating.
Everything we know inside,
is like a dream that will collide.
On the edge of hope and fear,
we do not fade and disappear;
in the tides that run quite near,
hold us close, the ones who are dear.
No comments:
Post a Comment