In the mist of this world lies the unspoken words
of the things I dare not say.
For when the sun rays meet them they vaporize into thin air.
The song of my heart is buried under autumn leaves, near the graveyard.
Not dead,
but forgotten.

Spring will give witness to the promises I gave myself.
They will sprout indefinitely, but fragile and frail.
I will gather my words like lilies in the crisp morning air.
Darkness on my back,
sunlight in my arms.
I wander in thoughts,
Lost but found.