Ortus

We opt for peace – it never works out
Discrepancies lead us to inhabit doubt
I'll coincide if it means I can learn
To understand what I cannot discern
How I long for a rapid escape
I need more than familiar face

Do I already know the ground I roam?
(Pay witness to memories rising from words on a page) I could be wrong
(My youth is a dove that cries to be freed from its cage)
We risk it all
(In the hope that we find satisfaction at a later stage)
Oh how we were wrong
We are the modern age