I've crossed some kind of invisible line
Into considerations of death and annihilation
A strange place
A time for many words
A soul submerged in sleep
Suspended between was and will be
Where is the sense in these desperate dreams?
The tadpole before the frog,
The worm before the butterfly
More in tune with a tree than a keyboard
We open our eyes
The day is before us and ...
We become ourselves.

Gypsy