Coming to the tremendously, truly beautiful uncomfortable in my own skin
Racing toward the terrifying, self-denying truth all in order to begin again
Watering an arid wasteland called ‘soul’ to now leave behind what has been
Altering consciousness in opening to the cosmos within your universal sheen
Following you where you’ve been and are and ever will be in eternity foreseen
Crying to be what self has always meant to be in me, far from trouble, so serene
Holding onto the dream of you holding me holding you so close in golden mean
So be bold to take hold against the cold of six-fold winter to remold the Soul . . .
And shall I be there?