So, if that’s true
What is the point
Of you and me?
We're a flash of silver
Through watery leaves—
An elusive glimpse
Of moonlight
Through the trees.
Does it even matter
We exist
Or our pain is heard?
But one day, as frost melts
Without a trace,
We’ll be gone
And all that will remain
Are these words.
Will anyone repeat them
Like a song
That haunts the psyche
All night long?
Are they merely words—
Or will they finally
Be heard?
