I sat here, beneath the oak.
My body ripping apart, my soul amongst the ruins.
I wondered - what are we fighting for?
The sandy summers or the winter's glow.
The shimmer of a starry night, the depths of love we find.
Through waters blue or gray they came,
The strong, the weak, the cowardly,
To find us lost in our reflections.
For these are words, not tears I shed,
The meaning lost, but never dead.