So is my lightpost,
It is like a mystery deep beneath the moon.
I suffer like the blinding sun,
But I gather like the sacred wind.
I toss away my forgotten memories,
As they are too much pain for my contemplation.
I find enrichment in treasures,
For they are the knots behind my mind.
I give away my solititude,
And I ask to give pure love.
I find solace in the sunlight,
And peace in the gleamings of the morning.
So I call the holy rattle,
The sound of thunder and glorious resignation.
I repose my existence,
To the rainy sound of love.
I call back my voice,
After screaming in the darkness.
I tharsh my hands in the air,
As with the agony of rumbling mountains.
Even as my world feels bleak,
I gash my waters with lovely consideration.
I shall reap the morning of love and flowers,
And I shall rejuvenate in lovely exaltation.