( . . . gentle ... so gentle

let the rain  just rain )

||

we walk the dead dream streets

Looking for a love that is not there

and the love that is there

We do not see

•    •

Cry ! Oh cry !

For the lost souls

( such as we )

Of these barren days

••

••

There is something to this

BEING FREE

story

Told by the saints

That might be considered

By we who wander

Thru the lonely pain

••

There is something to the tales

Of warriors

And of some form of

Spiritual surrender

••

There is something to the warnings given

Concerning the cultural manipulations

Of feelings about " falling " in love

||

::

it really is not a free country

( even a remotely honest one )

:;:

Perhaps ideas of becoming a true community

Have real validity

""

Perhaps the pain we say we feel

Is what they want us to feel

To make us weak

//

Perhaps we should really

Not listen anymore !

//

Perhaps we might start by simply loving

One another

In a pure and open way

//

Perhaps it is as easy as that

And that there is a power that shall

Provide for us all

//

Let us try it out

••

Anything would be better than what we are doing

To each other and to ourselves

Right now

///


Gentle river

Filled by the gentle rains

Flowing from the mountains

To your door