There is a time for prose
To take away the pain
There is a time for rain
To drop upon the rose
There is a time for waves
To break upon the rocks
There is a time for locks
To be the thing that saves
There is a time for symmetry
To crash into the world
There is a time for sails unfurled
To chase down this mystery
But the very hardest of times
Is the time of not yet
No matter how we fret
It will not blossom until the chimes
