The Eternal
Procession moves on, the shouting is overPraise to the glory of loved ones now goneTalking aloud as they sit round their tablesScattering flowers washed down by the rainStood by the gate at the foot of the gardenWatching them pass like clouds in the skyTry to cry out in the heat of the momentPossessed by a fury that burns from inside
Cry like a child, though these years make me olderWith children my time is so wastefully spentA burden to keep, though their inner communionAccept like a curse an unlucky dealPlayed by the gate at the foot of the gardenMy view stretches out from the fence to the wallNo words could explain, no actions determineJust watching the trees and the leaves as they fall