Time is a flower
That blooms as every hour goes by
And after all, maybe time is not a line
From beginning to the end
But a lens
I do believe that all things
Are made new as we glimpse the divine
Like a light through the cracks
Like a hand peeling back
The wallpaper of blue
In the sky
That blooms as every hour goes by
And after all, maybe time is not a line
From beginning to the end
But a lens
I do believe that all things
Are made new as we glimpse the divine
Like a light through the cracks
Like a hand peeling back
The wallpaper of blue
In the sky
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