Spiralling back
I arrive at tomorrow's memory
where our hearts beat in time
ever circling each other

from a distance
waking again to
the forgetting again
of who we were --

rulers of our destiny,
lovers meant to be
dancers out of time
poems not in need of rhyme

Plunged to the depths
of hope's abyss, we are
watered down
watered down

Here we run together
nothing more than
something less than
free spirits that we were

Blinded by a fog,
Mired in life's bog,
We fight to rise and fail,
Raise our arms and rail

At this imagined prison
we perceive, at all
the vast illusions
we believe.

Now we fall as one feather
taken by fierce wind,
Settling for whatever
skies descend.

Plunged to the depths
of hope's abyss, we are
watered down
watered down

Here we run together
nothing more than
something less than
free spirits that we were