Again on the cusp of spring
Such a literary thing
Every generation brings
Its own way of the same things
Hollowed out to understand
Where the pillars of the soul do stand
Guided up or guided in
Love or fear
Hope or despair
And do I even care
All there is was once and will
Remain in motion yet ever still
Carried in the breast of what is true
All there is was once and grows
Like gardens over what I impose
Has faith the strength to make me a rose
And bloom
In that gardens loom
Will the distance I keep
Be the harbor I seek
Or the fathoms in which I sink
For all the years I sail
I shall only prevail
If the sea abates its swells
