If I can just find
That pocket in your eyes
Where I can rest.
Oh memory,
How beautiful is the smile
Of time’s innocence?

Oh to hold that hand
That nurtured generations…
How does one return
The miracle of life?

When a prayer is burning
With the fires of memory,
My soul is lost
On the milky banks
Of afterlife’s river.

My hands are searching in the virgin mountain
Of our being.
Yet I breath,
A wind that has
Already forgotten,
And yet I breath
In a world that
Will not remember.