From eons to light years, down to the roots of trees
It's the fault of a father; storytellers to please
Send to the universe and back, ideas of what we could be
Rotations and battles, time passed and shadows
To turn hard and to hallow
Bleed their color onto the whiteness of snow
And we live and we learn from every single blow
The gashes on our thighs and still miles to go
But the whispers of a summer
Musty and warm to the soul of a lover
Interlaced in the words of people; we hope for one another,
A fate which was once hoped for ourselves
But life proved to be a living hell
And the wonders that we wondered cost cheaper to sell
Written By: Niloo Farahzadeh
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