There is a great joy inside
welling in an outburst of tears,
beyond the blue horizon
upon a golden blur of tears.
What is this joy?
I do not know.
What are these tears?
I cannot say.
What is this place?
No clue today.
A fog around the tracks
rolling silent as thunder
a belief in what was what
and all that went asunder.
A simple question
asked a million times,
a riddle of wonder
in uncertain times.
Who are you now?
Asked the fog about,
Oh, I've certainly forgotten
said a waterspout.
It's been asked over and over
many times before...
I don't really know,
I'm not really sure,
and I won't question myself
anymore.
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