The days are not in vain; nor the desperation or the pain.
For with each moment's turning, there is our chance to be discerning.
A world is opened to our eyes where past and future fraternise.
Where hidden hours return to thee, and linger through eternity.
Now I, your son, can give no more than what was given years before:
The quiet joy of a child's heart, is not a thing that soon departs.
Yet in me now there ever keeps, the voice of love which never speaks:
But only knows my mind too well - (I would appear an infidel).
But let that not dissuade, the fact that I am of you made;
And in my way I do your will; as my children will fulfill.
And so the days are not in vain, while the surge of time remains;
For the moment is our sole endeavour; and time once, is time forever.