When I’ve wisened with age,
and the past seems to be full of mistakes,
my heart still cringes at the thought of that one mistake
that I wish had remained uncorrected.
When I’ve been places,
and have lost track of where I began,
my mind still wanders off at the scent of wet earth
to that playground that made my childhood.
When I’m done counting scars,
and wiped off the tears that rolled while counting them,
a stubborn tear refuses to leave my eyes,
because that one beautiful scar was worth every drop of blood shed.
When I’m all alone,
and silence has the loudest noise in the room,
a little voice echoes in your ear,
and tells me there is one soul who still prays for me.
When life takes me down the road I never wanted to go,
and destiny and fate swap places,
a frail, wrinkled hand runs through my hair,
and gives me the strength of mountains, and the lightness of winds.