Refreshed

I will have to send into heaven all our memories and experiences.

On the clouds, they will float.

If ever I would need them, they would be there, but they would be magic, they would be mist.

They would be remedy, they would heal.

But they could never be source of life.

Never will new life emerge from memories of the past.

The sky has to be clear, my mind empty.

Heart has to be refreshed by tears before I continue dancing.