The Storm / The Still

And I write the time that passes
And you live everything we tell each other
The night, the moon, the fire, the storm
folded in a rusted note like another
burning coal, the crumble trespasses
It's in your head that everything fades
The good times, my faults, your rage
the feeling of doubt pervades
choked in the whirlwind of teenage

but now i sit with time in quietness
and I forgot the words we use to say
the day, the sun, the water, the still
tucked in pages drifted away
crumbles dusted, no heat to borrow
the pain, the pressure, all decays
a gentle peace that begins to follow
escaped from the whirlwind we use to pray

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