Before this year, I should make clear
Were darkened paths where light would jeer
Then holidays and the time that's free
Would be no more than shadows that only my eye could see
So grim a view from the window in my room
The social whirl cast aside for living in a tomb
My Hidden Place you call a heart
Had given up yearning and started crumbling apart.
Then from a flash of light in a musty corner, I heard a lively voice say,
"These dreams are never over, I see your hidden place, can I come and stay"
I wandered most carefully forward, not quite sure if the light was for me
But the voice spoke like Angels in springtime, so I stepped from the shade of the tree.
Now my story is far from over, a beginning is starting once more
And the hidden place i left to slumber is accessed through an open door.
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