What has brought us to this land so far?

So far…from where? Was I ever near?

Nowhere close. Anywhere…but there.

Lost, not forgotten, found but not recalled.

Where shall I go, far or near, the same?

Alas, we're gone, no place before be found.

But in mind, in dream, in floating phantasm,

Why must reality be our waking hours,

Why not dreams, of present, of old?

But here, here we rot, being nowhere.

At least our dreams were somewhere.

Not close, but never far, somersaults away.

I wish to swim, or run, or swing or bike.

Yes, that would be lovely—to enjoy…

Yes, enjoy the spring that brings my tears.

Why must I feel you in the wind?

Torn from my flesh, you haunt me,

I stay from filth, flee infection, why?

Why don't I heal? Replace, replete!

"No" is the answer. Bleed. Be not full.

And truth comes; I cannot otherwise pray.

Did I ask for this? I admit that I did.

The cost, too precious, but already paid.

Take me back. The start, or before.

I never trusted myself in the present,

But now I trust myself not in the past.

I regret. The words are empty, dead.

The truth hemorrhages what is lost.

It never mattered so much for me,

For you to be by my side, but you in His.

If I stayed there, I'd find you. Ah!

I still find you, with pain, a lance, a lack.

Come closer, and find the water, the blood.

I am there, seeking to mend the broken.

Salva nos, Fons pietatis.

Libera nos de morte aeterna.

Quia per sanctam crucem tuam redemisti mundum.