Remotely anticipate.
Change the wings that harness flight.
Await the time to answer questions
Of unwanted graveyard spirits
And fate's Underlying disguise.

Slowly visualize the past.
Foresee truth to reckoning.
The slumber's finally been disturbed
To show scenes of passive living
By hampering details of life.

Slowly recall the mourning.
Mend the wings of lost grievings.
Wounds deprive the soul its feelings
And keeps it sacred in its arms
To free the life of empty minds.