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THE OLD QUESTION

Sometimes on the shore of twilight,the ebbing time of day,
time of receding wavelets of light,slowly fading away,
we think of wisps of gestures, and words that float on wind -
Did I do right? Did I do wrong?over and over again.

In the hollow of restless midnight, The Question drifts in air.
Did I do wrong ? Did I do right?we ask in silent prayer.
There, in the weight of darkness, no words come to answer the call ...
but a warmth may touch the heart, and we know it's alright, after all.

At some time,we all will be there,
looking up to the far starlight,
or asking the empty air...
Did I do wrong? Did I do right ?

In the haste of a busy workday, decisions must be made.
Some intensely important. The wisest may feel afraid.
There, as on the battlefield,result cannot be foreknown.
We must decide the best we can, and face The Question alone.

It follows us down the years, companion like a cloud,
that never quite appears,and never speaks aloud,
but often haunting the mind,like strains of a poignant song...
over and over again...Did I do right? Did I do wrong?

Whatever the goal we're pursuing,
for even the wise, and the strong,
it's the price of being human...
...a little bit right...a little bit wrong.



Sendaverse - free use - compliments of "Future Folk" Music 2000

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