in what archaic light
might i be made to be seen pure?
when shadows will not taint
the progress of a life reborn
& what projection may impart
the whole of what i truly am?
in what dimension might we see
outside of where the fringes end?

to recognize a truth
how can we say we know it’s path?
when even light may bend and ruse,
deceive the structures of the past.
to awaken any hope,
hold fast to faith in what you know,
but even that is made like sand
elapsed, with no hands made to hold

unbound by words or thoughts alone,
the spirit flies above the sea
& language foreign to the earth,
can somehow now make sense to me.
the ancient life, known before birth,
the way we were before;
is somehow still a flick'ring flame
that burns forevermore.

so cast your burdens to the wind
that carries our hearts home.
a vast new force from deep within
has overturned all stones.
within the currents,
all encompassed progress, not our own.
as galaxies may shift,
so may all hearts become one home.