River of Life

We stumble through this life on broken words...
We mistake tiny sparks for sacred fires.
And life is always right in its own way...
While we are young... before the gray.

We mix the wrong and right...
We separate the light...
And turn the bad to good,
Just as we thought we should.

We settle into things...
Unaware of what it brings,
And often walk away,
Seeing only dark decay...

We get used to warmth so fast,
Not realizing fire doesn't last —
It burns us to the bone
Long before it feels like home...

And the coldness of a hand nearby
We take for a distant, cold goodbye...
Though sometimes, deep within the space,

There is no use in hasty minds...
Don't burn the bridges left behind...
For things may turn out... well and fine,
But not every single time...

In heavy fog we search for open ground,
Afraid to step beyond our own snowstorm...
And then we run headlong, without a sound,
Away from nightingales... so soft and warm.

We fear to take a step to meet the heart,
We drag another with us in the dark.
And just as we unlock the secret door —
We throw ourselves straight to the slaughter floor...

Don't look for warmth inside a frozen stream...
Give it some time — the ice will melt away.
Unbound, it flows again, a ringing dream...
While patience is the weight we bear today.

There is no use in hasty minds...
Don't burn the bridges left behind...
For things may turn out... well and fine,
But not every single time...

Don't look for warmth... inside a frozen stream...
For things may turn out... well and fine,
But not every single time...