Somewhere over our heads, children meet.
Over land somewhere, tiny angels crying becomes music.
There is a place, over land, where babies sleep, sun-drenched and swaddled in cloud,
Breathing contented, warmed by the churning of blood,
and beating of hearts.
As we cry here on Earth,
Some where over land, babies wait, as in the womb,
Peace permeates their lives, pain-free, and living each moment, as if it were a lifetime.
Over land somewhere, in the time it takes for one ragged breath to drag through our lungs,
Sons and daughters are growing, living, dying and being born again.
In each moment, somewhere over land,
They dream of us too.