Tonight the native flute plays,
expressing all that my heart cannot say.
Limbo is such a strange place to be, still I keep quiet that I may hear when the spirit speaks.
The closest ones can change and seem so far, like they've flicked off a switch and left you in the dark.
So lately I've been doing too much, stretching and reaching in darkness to find that there's nobody in here to touch.
Still I reach just one last time, I stretch my arms out wide, slowly feeling them crossing and coming back, then I find that I'm inside of them tightly wrapped.
I'm still alive in here, and though it is dark I am not blind to the things that are so clear.
I do not wait but quiet I'll remain, with dry eyes and dry face; I can hear the flow of every tear.
As we both know, we come in this world alone and we'll die alone, so what is there to fear?
That we'll fade into the darkness of our hearts and warm water will turn to frozen tears.
