What remains of us,
the fingers of God
when we are gone?
What were we, under the sun
smiling, loving and
as quiet as the twilight?
What remains of us,
why were we outside here
in the middle of the day?
If I knew what I now know
of time and gossamer bonds
and if you had asked me
If I wanted to be here
I would have said yes
because I wanted to know
the rhythm of your heart.
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