I am not what has been,
Like a hand that swings back
From the gait in some tired walk.
Oh how I could be
What has always been
But I decided this is the work of momentum
To be better than yesterday
And so on and never more.
I don’t make my mind up from the start
It just comes with the seasons
And how many days get accounted for
When you lose your heart
On falling for your befores.
Well mirth is fabled and false
When you rely on anything
Not of you and your own.
Decide not to decide
Only then, you are sung
Like a lullaby aborted with the sun rise.
To bring forth a day
That is new and never done
Like any day before.
