What was the start of all?
When did the cogs of fate begin turn?

Perhaps it is impossible to grasp that answer now,
From the deep within the flow of time . . .

But, for a certainty, back then.
We loved so many, yet hated so much,
We hurt others and were hurt ourselves . . .

Yet even then, we ran like the wind,
Whilst our laughter echoed,
Under cerulean skies . . .