Epiphany II

I will make it my happy song again:
the one you so unfairly ursurped and interrupted
whilst I was being myself around you.
I will sing to it again,
rise up above the alpine air
and smell the fresh snowy day
when I knew it was my tune
and that my time and place had come:
when I had stood outside of myself
in perfect exstasis
and seen that destiny had come a-knocking,
that yesterday was only a tangle of memories
waiting to be undone.

This is already my song today
I have nothing more to win now
and nothing left to lose.