What once was, has been, has gone
far beyond our reach, turns the stillest dreams
into a scattered, outlandish skyline called future.
Love is the voices we left behind, laughter and signs
now neither recognized, nor reminiscent.
We have lived our lives like roses,
have blossomed like the summer never ends.
Our spirits have always been raw, fragile
and unattainable, forever seeking after
the language of the soul, never predictable
yet, inscrutably gentle.
Waiting for the sky between us,
the scarlet clouds peacefully burning out,
fence nothing, shine only for the truth,
tattered yet tender, a night like us.
Written by Minyan
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