People are collections
Of twisted recollections
Mirrors and reflections
Though we often fail to mention
Waning as our skipping attentions
Dreams, faith, and the pace we keep
Yet love feeds these hearts that seek
Will we ever sleep neathe the sound of summer thunder
and cease the need to wonder?
Until this day I shall say my name, as proud as the hallowed grounds
I am the undone, only now may I truly become
Reverent, as a new dawn wakes
Quiet; elation breaks.