Erin Hanson

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Because the birdsong might be pretty,But it's not for you they sing,And if you think my winter is too cold,You don't deserve my spring

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Why must it be so hard For us to come to understand,That there are things we cannot changeHidden amongst the things we can?For we can rearrange our hearts,Dust out the corners of our minds,We can teach our eyes to seeOnly the things we wish to find.Yet once we decorate our wallsAnd sweep our sorrows off the floor,Why do we look to someone else,To show us how we can be more?For here is where the line Between our can and can't gets tough,Just the point at which we all must learnThat we are already enough,That since we cannot choose the home,Our only soul was born into,We should rearrange its roomsBut learn to love its window's view

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The irony of lifeIs our greatest fear is to forget,Yet it's the only certain fateThat anything has ever met.We know one day our earthWill find itself victim to time,That nothing will be leftTo tell of your story or mine,And still through life we rushScrambling for something to remember,Perish the thought that ash be ashAnd not the memory of an ember