Words (1997)

Why does the breeze stir up lifeless grains of sand The sweltering heat infused into its breath...? It rouses the sleeping souls of circumstances dead And fans their burnt out ashes on a burning land. Events repeat themselves though the wheel moves on And time brings about its changes unchallenged This river was once a rocky, dead, dry bed; And this sandy stretch, a verdant lawn. The brave warrior of yesterday is now gone Into the shadows from where he views the fray He may shut his eyes, in dreams relive his day But the fact remains that this is another morn. Why do the leaves rustle in the slightest breeze Whispering unspoken words of yesterday...? Making the pensive traveller pause upon his way To question his aim in a fit of dubeity? The clock ticks on, the sand grains don't stay their flow Down the hourglass, and, with time, move, one must Now leaping to the stars, now falling to the dust Growing with each step and stepping on with growth. A fistful of sand, its grains are scattered wide Change is imminent, you learn from both droughts and floods An arrow that could pierce, hurt and draw out blood But yesterday, now merely grazes the scars. Why does this breeze, this breeze of memories so stir you up? What do these stinging sandgrains hurting your face say? Don't the rustling leaves tell you that even today There is a friend somewhere in this wild world...?