Blindfolded by our little stories
We roam prisoners of petty desires.
Afraid of falling, we forgot how to
Stand on earth and roll, and slide.
But if a magic singer could make us
Move close enough to remember
Our natural bond, then the bubble
Would be pierced, experience freed.
With many limbs and feet and arms
With many hands and heads and eyes
Reaching towards everywhere embracing
Everything touching and feeling at once.
We are not arrows flying to a target.
We are waves of light engulfing cliffs
And beaches and draining sands
To the depths of unforeseen oceans of beauty.