And what is perfect? But a man-made concept, when it's the skies that dictate me.
Flow through the hazeFlow through with easeThe sun risesAnd so, the moonThe fog will fallBecoming dewTo feed faunaBelow.
And me, my ownMy soul’s embraceTo walk through fireAt my own paceTo see the birthUpon my faceWould help me standIn time and place.
