‘impuissant,

‘impuissant,

Part 3

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.

Part 1

Part 2

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