Under the Grove

As I stare at the unknown,

has the unknown been shaped by time?

Did it not carve our minds, our health, our fears, our weakness?

Because I remember the knife

that cold winter night.

Under the Grove.

Then I see my doctor's face

What a beautiful gaze

What did he say?

It was the sun, the sun

through the trees

Does the future remain unwritten?

Or does our past act as a proof?

That we can change our colours, our eyes, our fields, our oceans

but we can't change the truth

as much as we try to

Then I see my doctor's face

What a beautiful gaze

What did he say?

I was the sun through the trees.