Now as the pain is receding
i can take a breath...

The fear of winter darkness sits quietly
the fireflies ceases to move...

Sitting on the riverbank
with the company of the fallen leaves...

With the solemn grace of night
came the wind and the red moon...

It was my favorite past time
Watching the flow of the mystic red river...

I hear a thousand voices
I see a thousand faces...

Tired of each lie
The circle of broken ties...

On a fine Sunday morning
I sat with my pen...

I was like an open book
Until the writer came and wrote me...

The morning mist
A stroll down the road...

Covered by smoke
Lost in the maze...

Came within a distance
to touch the horizon...