magoski
On to an end unsure,
we are the Fires that Mark the Rings your Hebrides Hide-Out
perched like an Eagle
Lost and the New
This is the Land of Could Be
This is the place of Maybe
These are the Words of that Gray
wispy mass
of disconnected letters
waiting for the Sunshine
of Might Be. of Could Be
of Maybe.
when we felt
Between our hips
the moisture on our lips
I am the Young turned into Old
For it is in the Grey Areas that we can re-arrange
the letters
I was Scared
And now,
I am Sacred
Favorite track: Bright Faraway.
