In the sky, on wings of a dove.
In the heart, a desire for love.
In the mind, that wills to be.
In humanity, battling waves of the sea.
Look, I cry! My captain, who is myself.
Look, Pilgrim, compassion which I’ve dwelt.
Look, desire, does your search have no end?
Humble Pilgrim, are those your knees I see bend?
I seek, yet truth can only till my fire.
I speak, O heart, recognize my desire.
I lay, before the welcome mat of my heart.
I direct, desire, O desire, be my piercing dart!
The storm’s thunder and lightning crash at my humble being.
The ghosts-come to whisper, then start screaming!
The memories present a sad opera of fallen consciousness.
A quest as always, the struggle does not cease.
A strong door, even against force does not crease.
A tear so small, yet an ocean of its own.
A pilgrim, he wanders desire without a home.
Seek humble pilgrim, and you shall find, love, the desire of all time.
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