Discover A New Perspective
The art of walking on air
Is beyond that which is fair,
And in passing by I hear no steps,
But those which by my lowest evils have crept.
No dreams or illusions to be had,
Only life,
And man’s evils which make me glad.
Sin is a blessing,
And virtue a sin,
See through my disguise and look!
I am become Wind!
I wonder, I wonder If in the depths of our slumber, We ever dream to cease our ceaseless number. Perhaps our questions are naught but answers, Perhaps answers are naught but questions, Our pride is pr
I am scratched and itched, and old and young; I am the red greened apples, And love high-strung. There can be no words that pump as the heart does; Flesh and Fire, The forge of God's young.
I heard it before, Once long ago; Come and get me... The night grew young, And the dew was ripe; Come and get me... A voice not found is one that can always be heard; Come and get me...
