Let me be without the rising soul
for I start with a story to tell;
“Mother, I ask thee to hold my hand
as I am afraid of the darkness without lightning spell.”
Guide me throughout earth to whereas
the ohms of the night speak with me.
To linger with my thoughts
I ask thee for one opportunity;
“To be one.” as I close my eyes and smell the sea.
Let me be,
as hope clears into ashes,
the one of absentee.