• What would it be like to fall through those clouds?
    And reach that year that has passed me by?
    Like a bird whose wings broke mid-flight,
    Would time stop if I fell through the sky?
    Time continues to be my wings,
    Flying me through my life,
    Tattered and torn,
    And airborne worn,
    They continue through the strife,
    Though birds we are we tend to seek,
    The horizon that pierces the sky,
    And through our life’s it will always be,
    Until we birds must die,