The detachment I'm feeling, from all that we were.
Removing the reason, for which poems occur.

The physical art, that I form now to build.
Requiring some space that these poems once filled.

The movement of time, feels now foreign to me.
Life in creation with nowhere to be.

Distance no factor in a life without time.
Pulling from source, which directives are prime.

A new way of thinking that flows from the sun.
Showing the things, that have long since begun.

Feeling the changes, your life moving through.
Opening up doorways, that you never new.

The masses will struggle and some have to fall.
Combining together in creating the all.

The pull that we're drawn to, calls down from above.
By removing our blinders, we're left just with love.