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child can you hear the call?
no, for crafted is the tools which you gave me
teachings which stain the truth
for they have no presence of truth in them
meanings of the worlds elude me
so, in the sacrifice you know not?
I know it, and see the truth abbai
but I cannot have, or bear to face the light
it coils around me like cutting wires
scything through what I hide behind
tearing into the substance of me.
why, when I love you so much do you hide?
abbai, I know of nothing more that torments
my own creations or emotions have only subsumed
the apathy of self, so in perfect aloneless
I hear only ragged breathing to break silence
building up strength to scream...
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