Scavenging my memories for treasures washed ashore
Find you in the shadows, between parables and lore
Can’t discern your features, but I can hear your voice
Uttering the question: What is fate and what is choice?
A message in the murmurs, and rhythm in the rhyme
Be mindful of each moment, in the mystery of time
I’m rubbing at the mist that is fogging up the glass
Trying to patch the present with pictures from the past
The sun is breaking up the clouds; it could be a sunny day
I’m reaching for your hand before you melt away
A fledgling’s taking flight; a shoot bursts from the seed
A glimmer of a question: is it only love we need?
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