I hear you call from the forest of betrayed dreams
Where are our flowers passed down from gods to men?
Our garden wilts from those who lost themselves
They buy and sell the myth, they buy and sell themselves
My truth hounds me and will not let me turn away
It hounds me and will not let me walk astray
I must be, to feel the light's pleasure
It drives me with a force you could not measure
Today I saw the ripples of time
Today I felt this life of mine
To touch, to see, to feel, and to be
All of this inside of me
Free flying, in the truth of the night
Free dying, and trusting the light
Free seeing, past the facade
Free being, the internal god
The end of the beginning
The beginning of the end
Scott Robinson
May 1991
