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.