looking toward where the earth meets the sky, discovering new fragments of horizon, the slow motion of time instill in me the fugacity of life.
all i have wished to be once more, while days passed by from my windowsills, i wish i would come back to life.
escaped from the hourglass of time, it has rained tiny grains of earth, composing with nothing to make everything.
we might explain the world of how, but the world of why may remain for contemplation, we are dwelling in a world of utopia.
the chill of winter’s darkness sits quietly, time stands still, God’s creation slowly rises.
oh Lord of the sacred gate, please give me shelter from the storm, i was lost but now i’m free.