Witness the withering of willing waters,
That wishes to waltz towards the world...
Where the welting whispers prosper,
Towards the winners of wavering willows.
Where the wade of the wool with lambs,
Comfort the wishing well's that ooze at night.
...
Dripping from the dawn,
Is the raven's fur that deteriorates...
That disintegrates...
Welting ashes from the dusk,
Where the daunting dinosaurs whisper their history,
Underneath the dome of stone and bone.
...
So while our eyes are stuck on the past,
Can you stretch an arm to the future?
Can you move a limb towards home?
Can you count your blessings before they gallop?
Can you?