The past left without all of its,
As the present live any place else.
And now, always alone like this;
How then can the old ever bless?
Dryness of thirst spoke its waste
As all bare feet thorns had hurt.
Peacefully alone, wait for fate
With memories in a bodily hut.
When time has consumed its old
As water passes under the bridge;
This route for all, floods any hold
And water must pass under the bridge.