So love arrests development
and the bridges it once built
are washed away by all the rain
falling o’er the earth’s terrain.
So we think to re-enact the scene
and build again the past
but the weariness and wariness
like winter halts all growth.
So caught in this outrageous state
time marches on sans music
and musicians of the heart banished
into the realms of silence.
So we think to call them back again
but time spent has stolen skills
and instruments have rusted
in the void of nought to do.
So then, what then? I’ve no idea
how growth can come again
when arrested all are we
by love not meant to be!