The eyes closed... the hands draw to improvise,
chords playing a delightful song.
All the trails that led you there, all the fire that burns
And all the heavens from where you were expelled.

You just feel, the power of a resounding lung
with endless words to come, delightful.

The same power from the Logos, Ayar,
Proteus and Sarapis,
within your hands, within your lungs.

The last form of love gives up all the fear,
and just shine and just forward,
because there resides the same root
from the Father and Mother of creation.

You can build or rebuild the whole world.
Because the world that absorbs you
is far smaller than the Logos and what you could.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Mayan, in the year 1004 AF.