This is not the hope we've lost,
Nor is it the truth we've found,
This is not the Hell we fear,
Nor the Garden grown unbound.
This is not the deepest wound,
Nor is this our final mirth --
This is not our place of death,
Our hallowed lands,
Our reborn Earth.
This is not the ground we walk,
It bears no answer,
It finds no key --
Hardly, it's a swaying bridge
That ties your fragile heart to me.
This is not what Life has planned,
This is not what fate has sewn;
This is simply what we do --
We love when loved,
And love alone.