“Golden bars make no less a prisonthan a coffin on a hill.And in caged reformation,one wanders aimless still.The rafters now a recollectionof sacred suppression.How the morning dawnstrikes mourning confession.Now Death yields a harvestof the living masses.We walk toward its pathno earthly power surpasses.”

“Golden bars make no less a prisonthan a coffin on a hill.And in caged reformation,one wanders aimless still.The rafters now a recollectionof sacred suppression.How the morning dawnstrikes mourning confession.Now Death yields a harvestof the living masses.We walk toward its pathno earthly power surpasses.”

“Golden bars make no less a prisonthan a coffin on a hill.And in caged reformation,one wanders aimless still.The rafters now a recollectionof sacred suppression.How the morning dawnstrikes mourning confession.Now Death yields a harvestof the living masses.We walk toward its pathno earthly power surpasses.”

“A pebble thrown in a poolmay ripple from end to end,but tossed into the sea,it is swallowed by enormity.”

“But with what wonder has the season come?Its treasure lies in earthen ships,that carry dreams across the foam.And how your memory of Sarah rapesthe fleshly heart that once bore scenes,now veiled in smoky stains of tears;it cries as on its crutches leans,and ever fills itself with fears.Be born anew to taste the skyLay waste cocoon and upwind fly.”

“Some say the ocean roars,I hear it ever weeping.Weep, ocean, weep for those gone before.Weep, O sea, for the open graves that fill your shore.”

“I roamed alone;O, barren dreams.My echoed voice,what lonely comfort.Here is my salvation:I hear the triumph drum;the rhythm of the rising,the long-awaited sun.”

“The winged beasts and angels know, that mortals cannot fly. But how I flew to see the sun; a broken bird am I.”

“In freedom you form in utter disgrace,the bars of my prison this night.While you drift on currents of seraphim heights,it is I who deserve to take flight.”

“Deep blackness waits outside;a veiled inferno it attempts to hide.We see no more than dark clouds growing,but set inside, a fire is glowing.”

“I walk the sand alone,and feel it stirring as I roam,upon this breathing earth,where wave on wave begins new birth.I sense a grand facade,where colors paint the hand of God.And in remorseful pain,I dance the stones of bitter strain.”

“To your simple existence, do not boast;merely to breathe or move or think is not to live.The shore of the sea is but a ghost,compared to the depth its wholeness gives.You exist in the miry foam;make the ocean depths your home.”