Perfect For Me

It is said there is perfect forme through the sands of time where the shape of one becomes two... an emerging tone each passing stone becomes a note in the wind and a quote in the mind as the matter of a string revolves to sing where life divides... " growth " while appearing to die really doesn't only in the kind eye of a storm can seeds travel on to a far taking rest in soils rich with air there... in the Hour where God said to care... did a simple call to believe in us all appear... amid a beautiful sound to behold