I don't know much for sure
The only constant is change
Outside, the wind whips birch trees
And the clouds remain for another day.
Ask me about winter,
And I will tell you about war.
That year was the longest winter of my life
Filled with days that never counted
Months erased by their monotony and solitude.
Outside, the snow comes for another day
We are trapped inside by our fears and doubts
Ask me about loss,
And I will tell you about a year
When I chased the moth that grew in my brain
It was a shadowy thing not meant to be pinned
Beauty is such a live thing, not dead or framed.
That year was the second longest winter of my life.
I don't know anything.
I'm only grateful
for the constancy of change.