"So often I can't decide my truth,
Why tomorrow is tomorrow and how amidst
a sleep I do not wander into some yesterday,
or into your yesterday
Is it the sworn mysteries of life itself that insists the forward is our only direction? Where lies emotions of regret that persuade
me to desire the past, to fix what I had
But this, if I had missed the aligning fate that carried coincidence into our day
I would lose dreams, I would pain of
soulmates being impossible
If we are one, says o buddha, let's decide our truth in this instance as we gaze along
Along past, such inescapable beginnings of tomorrow…"