These, my friends, are the beautiful days -
where the dawns consume our mournings,
and the haze which engulfs everything that blooms
                     beyond this narrow scope of presence,
we will remember never fazed us, facing uncertainty that looms
                      among our marrow; hopeful tense,
and we will know, sometime, right
               now we can't yet grasp for want of knowing
where these paths go, to climb, which height
               or which ocean this is we're rowing

We will look back to these moments of obscurity
Filled by pigment as black, today's just gray until maturity,
Until fate took imperfect cracks to fill what's unsure into purity
We will look back and will be proud of who we were in our obscurity.