Reminding the world that there is room to grow,
For fear of aging and becoming old.
Caressing the light\'s face,
As if it were summer snow.
The once known gaze of a soothing breeze,
Turns it\'s head, and looks unto me.
\"I see that you were right,
There\'s always more to believe.\"
The youthful aloof, run along the bay-line, and sing while they bask.
And to the elder, it might seem that the world simply spins too fast.
As seasons do change, the children of generations past,
Look down upon their doings and discover content between the glass.
Reprise, as if the sentiment was not nearly genuine enough the first instance it was spoken.
Alas, to speak again a \"Thank you\", or an apology.
Overwhelming compassion dissolves into the heart -
Molding remorse into ideology.
Sitting idly on the base of the threshold that composes a hearty villa;
Watching in silent wonder as she swings back and forth from branch, to solid branch.
I think to myself, that the tree we planted so many years ago has become gorgeous, and absolute.
And that, like the tree, she would grow beautiful, and strong as well.
With a passing breath, muttered through sporadic flashes of thousand-year emotions,
It hardens like cement, the hand that no longer moves.
Never again to hold you close, and no more to guide your growth.
Bliss\'s raw scent, like the sea breeze at 6:00 a.m. -
And in all the world\'s desire, in all of its silly endeavors.
To spread a tiny glimmer, of a fragment once called Hope.
I will gather and deliver, and peace - A life worth living:
\"To you, I shall bestow.\"