The Sound of Coming Again

Tell me all your secrets,

I'll tell you mine.

I'm tired of this wasting of time.

We all know how it slips through our fingertips,

But if you don't know, you soon will,

I am spilling

All the paint

All the water

All the oil

All the spoils

Whisper your secrets

I'll whisper mine,

We can breathe life

We can breathe

I don't know if you were breathing.

I know at many a moment, I really wasn't.

It still seems hard to breathe.

And the sounds are raindrops on the windows

And the sounds are tears flooding into

Something of a river of things never flowed

Unanswered

Answered

Undercurrent trying still

Still trying

Still

You know me all too well.

Yet sometimes I don't know myself at all.

Secrets on the wind

Coming again.

Come again