White feathers, strange sights

A feather fell on the ground in front of me,
The evening sun, it crept on in,
Blue turned to black and the stars shone endlessly
All of love isn't free.

Holding my hand like a script in a picture,
and holding my wrist like you're choking death,
The look in your eye speaks like ages of life
All of love isn't free.

I couldn't see why you ran from me,
I keep running it back, I keep playing it back,
In a moment I see how it came to be...

There are stranger ways to fall from grace,
And harder ways to see your face,
If I will not be what fear makes me
Love will set me free.

(A white feather fell)