A Soul Beckoning Towards Retreat        
        
        At that back of every mind,
There is a space...
        Where the spirit meets back with the reason,
We feel each as it moves across our dreams and landscapes,
Nothing can touch what we see. 
Life, chaos, liberty...
I step back and now I believe it's life or it's simplicy.

Night running chills 
Up my back,
Strike it down with the need to know
That my mind will not sustain,
Being flat...
Hidden in a limited box-

I am going out to touch
The burning air
The winds that scorched my tounge
And burnt out my eyes,
But the means to retrieve is still there,
In those burning last seconds, clash and reality broken,
Then do you understand...?

Life,
Filling every need
Filling all my needs,
I will never rise above or below,
But in the end of all experience that light which 
   claims me,
I stand alone
And above...
Listening to my family's echoing woes,
Of a soul beckoning towards reteat-

(c) Mister E. [asylum/cia] 
All rights disturbed.