As winter awaits the spring,
As the tree awaits its blooming,
After countless repetition
All waiting becomes the same.
There's no point or destination,
No level I must reach,
Waiting for this cycle
And roll over again on me.
You can count the passing second,
You can count by conversations,
By learned lessons,
Or by dreams,
You can count each passing thought,
Each errant longing
Yet again -
When you know that time's repeating,
We're all awaiting
The same end.
Life seeks new desires that loom on the horizon,
Yet we strive for our achievements,
And they come, and then they're gone.
What is triumph?
What is longing?
When all longing comes to pass,
And is replaced by only memory -
In the end, what do we have?
Was it worth it?
Were you ready?
We're a thousand different stories,
Then our story starts again.
It's a repetitive long process
Waiting for wishes to come true,
Yet when it's over,
When it's done,
We're all awaiting something new.
So may this cycle carry on
Waiting for your dreams to pass,
Awaiting endless summers,
Endless visitations from strangers,
And yet life is the great teacher,
It shows us the truth of time -
That years and years of struggles
Are only seconds in your mind.