As if fear and love were all there is,
Oppression strikes fearless in my century.
Lovely formed and wisdom opulent,
Our words cannot be dulled through the clang and thrash of
I am not dead, you were mistaken.
I am only sleeping, time-biding, waiting
For words to ring true and rattle home; pieces thought long lost.
And without hesitation,
And in throngs infinite seeming,
Things will not be as they are now;
Breath will flow freely.