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https://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/342bb25642efb461ec16827799c9aa2a.mp3
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I folded dreams from quiet pages
on a night the river shone,
set them gently on the water
like a story drifting on.
Every current carried whispers
from the places I once knew,
names of streets and fading laughter
floating slowly out of view.
Paper boats on silver rivers,
tiny worlds of hope and rain,
sailing through the dark together
though they’ll never turn again.
Hands that made them know the secret
every journey must begin
with a fragile act of letting
something beautiful drift in.
Let them go into the current,
let them follow where it flows.
Not all dreams are meant for keeping,
some are meant to simply go.
Like the moon upon the water
we can touch but never hold,
life is just a passing lantern
on a river made of gold.
Somewhere far beyond the bridges
where the city lights grow thin,
maybe all those paper vessels
find the sea they’re meant to win.
Maybe every quiet wish
that we send into the night
turns into another star
in the patient sky of light.
So I fold another memory
with the dawn between my hands,
and release it to the current
that no heart can understand.
Let them go into the current,
let them vanish with the tide.
Every dream that leaves our fingers
teaches something how to fly.
And the river keeps on moving
through the silence, soft and slow
carrying our paper stories
to the places we won’t know