an air of sacred sorrow
in which tomorrow lies-
grown in salted waters
picked just before it’s ripe

a moment sits ahead of me
though ready I am not
within that timeless melody
i just hope that i will rot

when his hand extends to me–
and curls into a claw
accept the road in front of you;
don’t look back, don’t stop

step by step, don’t tremble;
and don’t worry about me–
for choice by choice we pave the way
we live, we die, we breathe

just as the tide retreats
and trees grow back their leaves
certainty suspends here
surround us, change incessantly-