Perhaps it’s been a thousand years, the rivers have shifted so, the lakes I swam in, have gone dry the waterfalls though, overflow. And so it is, that I have wandered back tugged furiously throughout days by this rugged tinkling thread back to this ancient maze.
Most surely it’s been several weeks the leaves are rough to touch, the grass withers where I step but trees don’t ask for much. And so it is, that I have rambled on pulled strangely through the haze, at last I fall under the rays of morn, My love, I’m home again.