Covered in blankets of their faces, I became cold. The morning spilt darkness on my feet, I am sodden in unrest, married to uncertainty. O’ flower child, can a nation be born in a day? Earth child, Thy wretched soul is an aged affair cursed with many children.
Heaven pleads for thy silence, earth child
To sow hearty seeds of gaiety for thy peace
In solitude dialogue with Earth-Maker
You create a cosmic aperture within the
Soul to welcome an infinite presence, a
Liquid love, to wash away the confusion
Settling deep inside the hollow of being.
O’ Earth-Maker, thy bidding i embrace
Welcome to this peaceless mundane
Encampment, the pit of Joseph.
Here, I jostle with ten thousand self-doubts,
And a million heartbreaking delusions