Longing and yearning are simply not tortures I put myself through
There was a day, not too long ago, I would allow the heart to ache
Until I read Keats and was truly unimpressed and admired only his words.
I was born in the century where hell came through the school room floor
It expanded into large gymnasiums and Olympic-sized pools
History became a way to demoralize my faith and mathematics, God.
Can you hear me? Can you hear me shout from atop my high mountain?
Down here where the seas storm taking down the souls of poor sailors
Yet, I’m completely calm as Huron raves, slinging her water spout and waves.
Oh beauty, if you could only feel the numbing cold and sharp water
Feel the hurt of winter and hear the cry of gulls
To feel the shock of warmth standing naked before the fire
Don’t you see? Can’t you understand?
It’s the burden of inhibition, the burden of self-preservation that separates us
I’ve shed the pretense of beauty, I shall not reenter that prison.