Flowing

What
do we have
that we can truly call our own?

We own nothing in our lives
all of our thoughts and our dreams
help to keep our souls alive
but are they truly what they seem?

Who
am I to question these feelings
that live in me?

They are born deep within me
waiting on the daylight's start
flowing like water broke free
from the dam that holds my heart.

Where
are they flowing,
like the river down to the sea?

The sea accepts them freely
for that is where they were born
We never owned them, really
like the night doesn't own the morn.

Why
do I question these emotions
with all my might?

They come from another time
waiting on my soul's rebirth
lending rythym to the rhyme
I use to define my worth.

How
do you know
what it is, that lives inside you?

You know your heart by its beat
that drives you silently on
when your life is not so sweet,
you brave the night for the dawn.