A fragrant song is upon my soul, Like the sun upon a withered flower But my lips are tight to your pressing
What’s inside me is on rooftops and Honey mountains, and even distant birds love To gather in such places, where God is
A song for a million army to chant is trapped inside the cave of a wounded soldier
A song is upon me, God is within me, a seed cries, to sprout, But my lips are unclean and my feet is heavy with doubt
I dwell amid a people who throw water in the fire, and darkness in the light. I have become an empty furnace, a shade of silhouette
A face is upon me: “Come and burn your Soul again in this flame” T’is what grace Is doing; Wooing my heart, to explode with her songs on rooftops and mountains
You owe the world love and you must pay her with your sunshine soul, clothed into everything you do
This earthy fruit is not a principle of the Friend who lives from within. This law, this rotten fruit corrupts eternities within.
O’ this invisible government reigns over the flesh and the strong among men can’t burn his fragrant song in open fields, willingly
What are these unknown pillars that promise To hold the soul’s castle but doesn’t have even the Leaf’s strength to withstand the storm, when it comes?
The wisdom of a stone can’t defy the harsh reality of gravity. The frailty of a bird doesn’t stop it from Writing its name in the skies
O’ this wisdom is simple but it’s divine and Freeing to my soul. The frailty of a bird doesn’t stop it from writing its name in the skies
God is a bird within; a law of freedom, wisdom and power to soar
O’ the wisdom Of man; a stone crumbling from the heights of lies and illusions
We learned to talk to trees and flowers again, as It was in the beginning, but trees and flowers Were not gods. Trees and flowers; Are they not Pathways to the beauty of the handyman?
We are not fulfilled as we used to. We stopped Singing songs of the tree of life, rather singing and dancing to the old songs of the old serpent
PHANERÓO | Make Manifest | 🔺