From dark soil matter transforms, disfigures and gushes
as the tender blossoms spring forth in the warming sun
So shall you be rocked back and forth by the nagged edges
of what shall never be known to you fully
Like a baby in a cradle you are held and never will you hold
Eternity cannot be yours, only yours to sail through

He who tries to capture its glory will never find the heart stilled
and will remain a sunken ship in depthless oceans
Misery comes to the fallen who tries to rid the wounds by piercing them with needles
Grace comes to the risen who carries the beast of burden with light feet and hearts of darkness
We climb mountains only to touch the soil of which all of our struggles will be born

Freedom is a butterfly dancing in a field, caressing the air with uncertainty
Seemingly lost and confused it flutters with the rythm of swiftness and cunning knowledge of its nothingness and belongingness
Unaware of the apparent paradox in which it dissolves into
only to time and time again be swept away by the endless waves of Being