You can hold back for a while,
keep distances inside,
while floating in the golden black of space.
Cinders, they still burn,
and the winds of change will turn,
and all is untied again in time.
It came to me discreet
quiet and asleep.
I know there is nowhere to go.
You can't draw a line
between rivers and the sea
when even what we conquer will be free.
Everything will slow
when we feel what we don't know
and all is untied again in time.
Everything I take
I give back in the move.
It's true, even you.