Above the trees and the ground,
There was no sound,
Above the world,
The sky had come down,

So much had happened,
Now it was over,
And nothing mattered,

We reached our hands above our heads,
We each held a piece,
Blinked our eyes and…

It’s time to fill,
Fly over garden, meadows, hill,
Heal those wounds,
Baring your own fruit of life.

It makes sense once you think about it, son