At times the profanation
At times the sacred sounds
At times the mystic silence
At times put back rebounds

Time is not a line
Time might be an Ocean
Time is still unknown
To her my still devotion

Letters in the mail
Poems in the night
Mad as mist and hail
Cranberry juice with Sprite

Love is patient and kind
I wait; yes, I wait.
Enter my wine mind
Destiny, not Fate

          Dragon Gate.