The Saints keep pressed lips when speaking words.
Gypsy lovers crawl towards the feet of his might.
Watch the shackles shake the walls for the prisoner sees his face.
Not within the petals of a flower, but within the breaths of fire.
Within the last glance of prey's eye before the predator kills.
Not a power of cruelty but of vigilance.
Embrace the sweet lotus cradled by the parting waves of serenity.
Be he, he or she or it or I.
Blessed be a soul seeking love of the highest.
How indescribable it becomes.
Fear not where the lightening strikes but where it doesn't.
For truth is no more than lies.
The mountains of knowledge sought dull in comparison to a grain of enlightenment.
Be still in all that is sound and rotation.