Slowly untethering myself from things of a worldly nature.

The quiet is not what we think,

She comes in peace, offering that which money cannot buy 

So we must pay her in kind by extending ourselves into the ether,

Reaching out for the familiar hand of our wholeness

Our oneness refuses to show itself in a fog of self loathing 

But can only be found when we unburden ourselves from...

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Cry and cry, till I die

Can you hear,  I want you by me

As we used to play

In the long golden grass, 

My beautiful one. Long gone

Four years, but still with me

Played till state authorities saw

And stole from us our life, 

Raped us for themselves 

Persecuted us, we ran, not mad

To escape their tether chains cells

Far away, beyond altitude. 

For we are ...

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