Often I dreamed of coming back once more
flying in light midair suspended
seeing all yet not being seen
in another form I clothe myself
with the orbit of what escaped as real
but real was not there for counting
real they were not – nor food nor water
that road the wall the newsstand
true more than truth was love
forced into a body of fiery senses
undermined by soaring frozen flights
breathe hard of me for I am here
in naked soul and spirit full
I keep my voice intact for you.