The virtue of accepting birth and our bodily end in the eternal cycle triggers a sublime joy. Oft I dreamed of coming back once more flying in light midair suspended seeing all yet not being seen in another form I clothe myself with the orbit of what escaped as real but real was not there for counting real they were not – nor food nor water that road the wall the newsstand true more than truth was love forced into a body of fiery senses undermined by soaring frozen flights breathe hard of me for I am here in naked soul and spirit full I keep my voice intact for you.