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外链地址
http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/f279f21eb9b2b7f96f6e3b1481e38b19.mp3
点击复制It points to love not north or south
It hums within not mind or mouth;
No needle spins no line appears—
Its guidance formed from silent years
Each memory a mark of gold
A truth the passing days still hold;
The past becomes the inner chart
That shows the road back to the heart
No metal forged no map decreed
Just intuition’s simple creed;
It turns through joy it sways through pain
And leads me home through loss again
The compass hums beneath my skin
It names the place where dreams begin;
The way unfolds through what I knew—
Each memory a point of view