Every year We're a little older; the rates seem different The setting sun Is the same old star; some days it's different Orange and red A dimmer gray with a lilac interest I know it's air A material difference, how the light gets filtered I know a time, a place where it changes A little bit less each year over year A personal best when I find it, keep it Hide it away in a house of mirrors Pay it a visit, sit in the middle Every reflection: past and light Prisms and skitters, the spittle of letters Form into language, permanent night Every year I'll write a song til the words feel different The same night sky Might show a new shape of constellation The dying light, Reaching out to the other side of existence I know it's there: An idea, a wave, a glimpse of greater vision