Getting sound there.
Feeling it.
Reaching for faces unknown and caressing their thoughts as mine.

On the grand mountain lives the spirit of the eagle.
This spirit sees everything,
being weakness the most precious of all feelings.

Eyes on eyes fill up tears by smiles.


(And I'm the lonely one.
And I'm the one who must die.)


Forget living the past or some strange
and impossible dream you might had have.
Loose it and fall on the precipice of All Life.
The present it's a present of god for you,
don't let it get past you.
Times pass and future is not.
For walking on your feet is magical as the medieval age.
Part me, part you, sun stretching into the city like a missile of believing.

No, for not as I but as what I want to die for.

Places of truth, beings of light darken
by unprecedented beyond life of the singular individual.

I touch and you feel.
I look and you smile.
Take it for granted that the world will always be and you,
being yourself - as you cannot be anyone else -
will live it as you can and must.

For dying is the body's weight.
Cure it by walking with your feet,
by seeing with your eyes,
by feeling with your hearth.

It's your own singularity that brings you towards life.

You can fall, but don't feel that you fall on the ground.
Instead feel that you fall inside your self and that way
the vital flow of life will put you again on your feet.

Life is just tragic for those who
are not willing to look and see beyond themselves.

Though the world is cursed we all still believe in something.
For as little as it might be it's already a seed.