These bags are packed with dreams and the memories of who I’ve been; To scatter forth like gathered seeds on fallow hope, strewn at the mercy of the winds
The genesis of spring unravels the knotted darkness Another winter’s aftermath hidden back on the back shelf The distance between back then and now, is widening each Dawn to Dusk
A gust of sunlight plashes ripples across the still waters of depthless peace
and, my hands are no longer tied behind my back by winter's grasp
Seasons oft do change perennial as the tides
But I don’t want to see another ocean runaway; I don’t want to know how another fleeting moment ends