there is so much that can change
in the draw of one breath,
the unwillfull blinking of an eye,
or a full cycle of the seasons...

there is so much that can grow
in the sowing of deep-seated longing,
under a crisp red summer moon,
that turns ash into multicolor flowers...

there is so much that can die,
in the soft song of an abandoned girl,
a simple melody without words,
floating over fields, oceans of wistfulness.