In grief we fight from moment to moment
yesterday's truths or tomorrow's lies.
With blinders on we see only cataracts of time,
dropping off to God knows where.
I seek to know,
help me in my unknowing.
when shall I know that the intellect knows so little?
When from the depths of some abyss
pristine drops of water come,
and touching me
they find and baptize a soul
wanting so much to be touched by the truth,
to be free.
How could I know how wonderful it feels
to be self if it was not for you?
And what do I say
when the gentle breeze calls for a response?
Madness is just madness.
Glory lies to justify the madness.
in their souls lies a hidden time
when truth is One.
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