Parched the earth, parched my throat,
Parched my imprisoned soul;
Thirsting each one, for it's own nutriment.

It does not come, unkind heaven is deaf,
To outstretched arms and pitiful cries;
High gate and bronze door, shut in one deafening clang.

The mortal self yielded first, poor corporal entity,
Down on it's knees, inadvertent swaying;
Then bit the dust, heavy as a clod.

Weighted by itself, now the returned prodigal to support, too,
Tired Gaia-one last bleared look, a handful of shuddering breaths;
And perished, she too, long overdue?

Like one last wager, e'en when all was lost,
Stood that thing-the soul-hazy, dusty, gasping, but standing;
Eyes aflame, strange fire; foolish thing, had it hope?

Afore!sweet Neverland!no gates to bar,
Clumps of trees, distant cooing, stars above;
And forever falling, in one jet stream-ambrosia!

The cage was broken, mingled clay and clay,
All three worlds were dust, rusted chains, unlocked;
One sole gust-and away, being, to eternity.

                        Don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this.Seems like very serious subject matter, I know, but trust me, I myself haven't a clue of what this is all about.