like a folded crescent moon she moved
between the stages of separation, across the heart of reparation
pale and inconsistent like a paper crane floating down a stream going nowhere
she said something in a low tone, broken down into invisible steps that lead
to nowhere in particular, to somewhere quite familiar

a thousand paper cranes folded across the star scarred sky
littered upon a field floating nowhere in particular, somewhere quite unfamiliar
like a thousand paper crosses for a thousand quiet graves
an overwhelming sense that this river runs nowhere in particular
an overwhelming feeling that this touch leads somewhere unfamiliar

i saw you as a pale moon, cut, crossed like a paper crane
and with a familiar feeling, i set you down in a quiet grave
and mourned softly for a thousand paper cranes