The Lost Words (Hour 4)

Jisike, you are the friend who chose to foldaway

 

Truth found us in the beginning

Its presence, unwelcome

Its garment of honour, invisible

The invitation to the unity of birth, void

 

But we tarried

 

We were nascent beings, volatile and transient

We stood always with hairs in the sky

If we have a date with truth tonight again

They will be rehearsing our beautiful songs

 

And you chose to travel

 

Truth will find us midway still

Truth will find us in the end

Those beautiful songs must sing themselves

Those dreams built on sand dunes will remain

Not to be buried in the cemetery of lost words

 

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