| The young grow younger every day
|
| While I have little left to say
|
| A lonely bird now says it all
|
| Or winter gnawing at the feet of fall
|
| I did not die
|
| When suddenly you went away
|
| And I survived the night
|
| To see the day
|
| No answers left
|
| No word to end the pain
|
| Instead unvaried wisdom
|
| Of the rain
|
| Where time is time
|
| And life is breath
|
| Another spring will rise
|
| To silence death
|
| So I have little left to say
|
| While the young grow younger every day
|
| The naked trees bend stubbornly
|
| Against the sod
|
| To tell enough of life
|
| Perhaps of god
|
| No gurus left
|
| No prophets yet remain
|
| Instead unvaried wisdom of the rain
|
| Where time is time
|
| And life is breath
|
| Another spring will rise
|
| To silence death
|
| So I have little left to say
|
| While the young grow younger every day |