New Fires
Christian Loeffler, Henry Green
Every night, forcing the sunrise
something to hold.
I see white forming on both sides,
only to go.
New fire every day,
Four seasons of change.
No moment the same.
I feel it in ways
That I can't explain.
I can't explain.
We move through the wild
But how far from the border line do we reside?
We move through the wild
I'm starting to fall behind
And redefine the space that I'm in.