Will you hold my hand?

Will you hold my hand?

Across my wobbly bridge?

While I sway, the wood creaking

Beneath my bare feet?

The water is hurried,

Chasing the howling wind,

A sport I have become a master,

Yet an amateur

Because who can catch the wind?

Will you hold my hand,

Through my labyrinth woods?

While I become lost, the path uncertain

Beneath my worn feet?

The trees are moving,

Bending to the howling wind,

A game I once played,

Yet no more

Because who can always bend?

Will you hold my hand,

On my way home?

While I smile, the sight overwhelming

Beneath my earnest feet?

The gate shining gold,

Blocking the howling wind,

A state of mind I practice,

Yet with no more need

Because who can block wind when it is

no more?