Is it true that I say or never more will I speak,
Even though our bones grow ever old, Allayed with the Wisdom that we meet.
So many years are the milestones, all journeys along the way ,
Love-Affairs that thought to last,
To those that would not stay.
How many Souls we held so dear,
We Loved but soon depart,
The violent Storms, Less Halcyon Days that try our timid Hearts.
For no matter how time’s thorns makes us weary ,
And troubles that once fled, now remain,
We observe a jubilant Rainbow,
And become the lost Child once again.