Thought Dream

I walk through the scented air of summer's blooming Into the frozen air of winter's dying, And as tears inside me fall The pain of old wounds Calls me to mend them, And I realize once more That things done before Have no ending. I feel the cold of eve slowly waning. As sun burst rays of warmth overtake me. And the twisted seeds of doubt Which spread my sins about Lie parched and withered. And the present not the past Claims me at the last For it's not over.