When I awaked I found myself exceedingly refreshed, but that, however, one way or the other and the spirits lively flowers and medicinal breakfast I supposed, I was stronger than yesterday and in the shore the nymphs sing to the travellers too whom afar carry penance in the weary of living behind their families, for it was short the trip in the upper life. Making the witness see, and hand touching hands in the boat of destiny and my lost souls sunk and tipping my toes inside submerge following them once again.
And worthy of acceptation among them, one of them, bubbling my arms around them with another last breath, loosing their anxiety off, wave swirling underneath the anonymity, retrieve from the fixes minds who hate me. Fame and power, they want shouting the name of the river Styx with pertinent annoyance.
Who palpitate miraculous and ever lasting boundaries to be shared, as the lost souls to one another. And all those shares, are lost, again. The pause marches, my friends, seemingly paralysed, nameless. Hatred, that if you knew, blissful from the untagging infinite. Never afraid to stop the loving bay. Unrecognised, unwanted, unvalued, misunderstood, non attached, elevating through the muddy waters, to the immaculate.
Hate me if you must, coz you cross over. Split identities, to the believe they could ever exist without the other. Split identities, electrically thundering by past and future, split polarities, twirling from molecular to the universe, for this river is one. No one else is here, non with a name on their grave to be missed.
Quick within the waters, serpentined, alone, all one as the lost souls, in love, raged by unaware divinity, with conscious or not, we loose our selfs intoxicated, to breath again, yet. And when glory is blurred, and another vision transfigures. Whom am I to condemn you, my lost souls, we will never get to see the judges, we have no paradise nor hells, bond to flow, dancing without mercy. One who stands in dewless asphodel, wants more and takes. A wear power who never satisfies, eats inside for simple things as non, flow with great abundance when you have nothing to hold back.
"As strong as death, nonsense." And their eyes twist sweetly contained to the stress, my lost souls know, they can breath again as a last kiss. "Oh love, they call me hatred" Misunderstood to promote anger in my name, thy words have ill availed, wear my plain to sight. Did not want the coins, another fluency takes. This river supports Charon, his sanctifying ride will take you abroad. In charity swim backwards, my porpoise has no ends, for those who had failed, will rejoice with, there is no end in the falling. Between the shores without ground, was never hateful as I made believed, I was supporting Charon to bring more death. For each end, I love thee freely, grief, my lost saints.
"Your high promise, would you die for your reason to be alive in full spirit? Come my lost, there is yet another breath to gain." Twirling with them bodies, rushing humanity, petals come down, swinging, bling, bling, how peaceful it's inside with no were to go. Are you persuading me to give it all up? When the more is given the more nothingness I have. Feel your body while it lasts, that spirits me too. And the end of anyone I will be hated coz who would flow for longer as the lost souls?