nectar of life from a distant throne shadows breathe in a constant drone dewdrops lose their glorious bright And colors seeping back to white chaos churns the rivers grime o'er smooth stones made of time filters pure, ancient golden goal creative essence of the soul whittle away chaos gray write the words you have to say somewhere in each waterfall poetic feeling of a distant call paths to journey made quite clear with all it’s folly, sorrow and fear essence of a greater power love breathed peace in final hour envisioning Nova of one’s death goal to love with each last breath