There is a tangible heartache to the world
There is pain that seeks to obscure love
Where over the quiet hills it sleeps
Like a baby
And the watch towers are dark
Even as the suns burns incessantly
Like a candle at both ends
Each day is a footstep left
Climbing through a riddle back to yourself
A swan that recalls beauty in the stillness
Of water that is the mirror containing the universe
How many countless things have we imagined
How many seasons have we endured
Where love is like a discrete rumor
I find comfort in the knowledge of birds
And the hidden rebellion of trees
Who stand up for themselves
Nature is sure in its majesty
But how did we so easily forget
How do we remember that to be is to love
Or to love is to be