Like the wind you are, and I am north -
Unchanged my airial conflicts.
For those weak of heart, those lacking roots;
Praised be the stones, their pillars of faith.
In them they find a stable stage, one with a roof to shield them.
Yet unshaken to the naked eye, false hope is within my sight.
No memories of empty ideals will pour itsself - without excuse - into my soul!
Surely, I will not - and could never - be a willing victim, floating underneath a roof of glass;
Like a window to the world inside - exposing the true meaning of life...
See, I may be tied neatly to our earth, but mistake not where my loyalties lie.
For it is not the soil's own element that has me bound.
No, my mind is a wider landscape than that - and therefore will never be caught or lead me to the eye of the storm
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