A New Dawn

over the stream of despair 
Is set ablaze from the fire of my soul 
For I  
Need not go from whence I came 

The far bank calls me back 
But  
That call is soon drowned out  
by the cracklin’ of timbers. 

My tired bones are warmed by the heat 
And the myriads of oranges and yellows against a canvas of navy and black 
Washes away the regret from the years of waste. 

It burns through the night 
And as the fog of dawn rises  
there's nothing left to look back on  

When that path is gone 
And all that remains is cinders and ash 
the wind
will call me home