Maybe somewhere in the depths, you remember that there was love
In the wake of twighlight
Traveling amongst too many dreams
I tighten my grip
There is no letting go
May everything that be,
Be
I had hoped that he would appear with a rustle of feathers and carry me to sunrises who do not bleed
Cradled in the receding tide
Sunset slipped through my fingers
If I could hold this in the palm of my hand, I would bless the water of the seed
Of the tree who, dying, still grows