When all that's left is love,
slow the heartbeat into silence and
surrender to the violence in your blood.
For there will come soft rains again
and you will feel the silent hand of God.
The past is no one.
Stuttering you'll go
to where your feet recall the footsteps
that were taken here so many years before.
As if by no one,
as if by nothing more than circumstance
you rose.
I'll try to catch
the bliss of these moments that pass
before they fall behind me,
as you do;
as you did.
For centuries I roamed
As silent as the snow.
(baby won't you came home)
The past is yourself.
In the moments where you lose yourself,
you live.
Tell me, is this all there is?
The sum of all these yesterdays is loss.
Tell me it's the same for you.
That meeting eyes could bring a heart to beat
and how.
Yet now, all this sentiment
amounts to little more than scattered ashes
in the ground.
Try to catch
the bittersweet moments that pass
before they fall behind you,
as I will;
as I do.
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