Graceful strides flow without movement
Seem still, they do, in the face of reason

The flow of purpose lies in ruin
oh, how would I intend to bring it back

There once was a vision of love so clear
Now obscured by illusion and an ignorant ear

To live in truth seems like a lie
for who could know me,
complete with the seamless sky?

The things that seem to move
Lie still, it seems, under mystic glance

For all movement is only a play
Yet none lie still for many a day

I’ve seen life through God’s own eye
But how can I tell of this before we die?

To live in lies seems so vain
But who would complain?

who would want to try to abstain?
Who would try and refrain?

When after all, it’s all the same

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