Stories were told, blank moments were filled.
Angst resolved, imaginations put to an end.
The door was closed, new things entered.
Burn the memory, ashes were taken by the wind.

People dream, roads are still there to be taken.
Regrets are felt, unwanted things happen.
Wounds will heal, time will speak for its best.
I am but a loner, having a pen and paper in my pocket.

Carry the cross, lift it up to the Healer.
Enjoy the scorching sun, dance under the rain.
Someday I know when I reach heaven,
You are there, waiting for me to sit with the Father.