There is a coldness in my being
There is a being inside my Self
Itself longs to be build rockets
Buildings, towers, love, energy
Towering above my head, always
Heading towards waves. nameless
Counting clouds, naming stars, planets
Smiling softly to old men and children
A man, with wise intelligent eyes
Wisdom and calm permeate his aura
Calmness the sheathe to a storm withheld
Held perpetually, a walking explosion
Restless, i walk to find this being
This being called my vision
The vision of myself.
To touch purity, is to impair its perfection.
Revert.Revert. To pure animal self.
Is there no one, who will share my king?
