In a world where all is borrowed
And time like elusive dust seems to Just slip through our fingers
All we realy have are these precious moments
Where we can make fertile the soil
In the garden of our hearts
That love may make its home
And here the mortal seed may flourish
Only love can free us from the womb of time
For life… like a magnificent mysterious cloud holds
Its shape and from only long enough for us to blinks
And all our precious memmories are but shadows of Time that will drift away like fallen returning
To the emptiness from which they came
Thus we are, like innocent children flowering
In the garden of souls