She, she is the forest
and I, I am a word in her mind
She, does what she can for us
while I, I wait for a sign
We change into each other
We change into ourselves
and she, waits for the chorus of herself


Arm in arm and hand in hand
First we fall and then we stand
Once, she was a songbird
Now, she is the sky up above

Soon, she will be what’s heard
When, we become love
She takes what we would not know
Then she makes it alive
and then she, waits for the Word to arrive


I, I am an illusion
I, am what is real
I, carry confusion
I, make an appeal
She holds herself for ransom
She holds me to the flame
and I suffer contusions to my brain 

Peter White © December 19, 2008