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The our 'above' shivers with confiscated sadness,
Gloats in its vociferous madness
And laughs at us

We are the concubines to the wind,
The century-graced grains of sand
And we roll over...above and beneath our deserts
That deceive us with their mirages of 'be'-ing

We dream of flying
And sometimes cross our dunes to find again
A cry in the bleeding monotony of time
That keeps us still in an hourglass

Visions of the future dance in the heat
Of our self-forged playgrounds and ballrooms
Winding and twisting in on themselves
As far as the dreamer's vistas may go

In our bowl of vexed consciousness
The awaiting masses of tresholds form battalions
Of aspired spirituality, individuality, sensuality...
Figments of thought in broken pieces of reality

We wander around the puzzles
Composed of trillions everforming members
At every step of the segregated ground
We stumble and fall before we can be lifted

The our 'above' shivers with confiscated sadness,
Gloats with its vociferous madness
And laughs at us

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