The wind, it blows
And time it flows
The rivers move to the sea
The skies will always bruise to night
Sure as the leaves fall from the trees
We all pass years
And years pass by
We learn
We grow
We die
But time has a funny thing
Of stitching curving lines
The tides roll in
And pull back out
Moving grains of sand
The fires burn the grass to its roots
So the seeds twitch and start again
Everything moves to its own time
But to a time none the less
Circles drawn are circles crossed
Paths that come and end
But the end becomes the new beginning
When all else is said and done
And we find ourselves starting again
Beneath the same old sun