It is like, the fire that burns in my soul.
It is the past, realm for watch I long for.
For it calls, upon the heart,of my very soul.
Here, I lost my wings, one must walk.
As night, descends one can hear voices.
As the voices, come closer and closer, they cry out.
And, they pray, for the Creator and more.
Here, the flesh and the bone time is running out.
Here, life is full of, hate and anger pain sorrow.
In, the realm of past time is far greater.
See, the desire, to be with, the Creator, is far more.
Each day, as it comes fourth, I long for it, more and more.
As I pray, for all and more, time is alwmost here.
See, the hour class, is almost empty, grain by grain.

