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I know not what tomorrow may unfold, Or where the roads, as yet untrod, may lead; but i know There are no borders, only wind. Like you, I was born. Like you, I was raised in the arms of dreaming. Sometime, We’ll read the meaning of our tears, And we’ll understand.

Better than grandeur, better than gold is the shrine of love, the haven of life is a heart that can feel a woe in affliction’s hour, better than pride and vanities is the balm of a tender hug with its soothing power, when all decay and fade away trust the blessings of heaven.