Whose path did we cross to come this way?
in the blind turn of the road
we will never know
whom we met for the last time
The curling smoke around those
mist laden valleys have stories to tell
of you and me
sitting in the dark night
stoking the fire of passion
drying around those lips
Whose flicker were the last words?
we will never know in dying memories
crystallising in the myth of time
We will never know the last leaf to fall
the last snow to melt
in the never remembered winter
Disparate time passes under those lips
like waters of different summers
tracing paths along banks of remembrance
In the smoke filled valleys
of wilted flowers and dying dreams
we will never know the last lily
which smelt not of gunpowders
Histories bind when centuries disappear
in moments of immortality
I and you
before we kiss it adieu
lets send a tear filled letter
to this last cloud on the horizon
whose moistness will dance
for the last time among the waves
before it rains down
for the last hands to caress
the last harvest, the last existence
