mark this moment

There are so few songs left to write, now. Let us say there are none.
And there are so few motions to go through. Let us not move.

Let us stand up and face the things we have accepted to be true.
For there are too few lies to cover it up.

We must have already known, long ago.

Every story has an ending.
It is never the one you expected it to be.

These things end when the symbols fail to move us.
When our traditions are dead in the ground before they can be born.
When our light is darkness on the hill that draws us down.

When the future is no longer the vision that you hold true.
When the road to go is all behind you.