words on a monitor
bring the past to the present
remembrance
of the dance
speaks sorrow
of all the tomorrows
tossed away
never to see another day
what now
i don't know how
to move that way
see i have learned to play
in a whole new way
not perfect
but beautiful in its grace
that has been given space
to move to a new place
my words will raise
to the maker of praise
hoping there will be more days
the present is the gift
the past has been set adrift
the future...
it's not my move
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