When love is gone,
as every time before,
I get lost.

When I am lost,
as every time before,
I search.

When I search,
as every time before,
I cry.

When love is gone,
as every time before,
it's time to move on.

Moving on sounds so easy,
but it's a concept,
that's harder than one thinks.

Sometimes quick,
and sometimes slow,
sometimes I'll admit,
I don't even know.

Moving on is so hard,
but it is something,
that must always be done.

Looking through the past,
and fighting through the present,
I turn a blind eye,
and a scared heart,
that's beginning to scar,
towards everything.

Then comes the music,
the music that calls us all,
and I falter.
And I fall.
And I cry.
And I let go.

But, this time, I know.
I have hands holding me up,
I have tears to cry,
but people to wipe them away.

To them, what can I say?
To them, what thanks could I give?
To them, they are everything
that I need right now.

I let go, and let the wind carry me.
I let go, and let the music carry me.
In the arms of an angel?
Once before, many times.

::December 1, 2002 02:16 PM

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