With the wind beneath my wings and the river at my pack, I journey for something gone.
Something I am trying to get back.
Along the way I see there is a fine line between being lost and staying on track.

How can you focus on the task when you’re counting each hour that has passed?
How do we keep love grasped when even the sun’s light does not last?
Do we hope the moon illuminates our path?

Or do we march through the dark
Guided by only the light from our hearts
And hope that spark is enough to lead us through the marsh

Back to the shore
Back to the only place we have ever felt peace before.