Estados de Espirito (XI)

And he talks to the river of lost love and dedication

And silent replies that swirl invitation

Flow dark and troubled to an oily sea

A grim intimation of what is to be

There's an unceasing wind that blows through this night

And there's dust in my eyes, that blinds my sight

And silence that speaks so much louder that words,

Of promises broken

(Enigma)