What do I know of the land of Shiva,
the mantra, the sacred sound...

Well I have seen you
for a small while now. But...

along dark and winding forest road
stood a decaying house of wood and stone...

Sowing stars in night skies
little and twinkle shine...

Does the winter wind
know the nature of my adoration...

I created the wind and let it
pull me deep into the upward...

Like
red lips...

Passing winters into thawing springs
as goes the death and life of things...

When in the wild
Do as they do in the wild...

When asked to do so
Grace often cannot extend, instead...

Oh! Dem silafily beanlafeans
get me up alllafall mornings...

We should be the wind,
Thru the trees...