I am the lonely stranger walking into the Inn,
I am the careful observer at the edge of the circle.
I am not part of your pack,
I feel lonely in the crowd.
Seven mysteries play just behind my eyes,
And it scares them to death.
The tiredness of the group collects in my veins,
As I spend being the centre of attention.
So I put on my shield like an invisible cloak.
I am so tired I can’t speak.
The pool of my mind is getting
deeper and deeper.
Alone.
As I sit on the cliff watching the waves,
the angels start to dance.
I feel the pulse of the stillness
as it lifts me up and fills my wings with air.
Old discussions draw me in
as I suck the life out of the silence
and play swiftly on the wind of my soul.
The next morning with blood coursing through my veins
I glide down the cliffs
to play on the plains again.