For the soul to be cleansed, it must be free of scarring. To remove the shards embedded, it must give itself to the flames.
When my conscience is blurred by my rage, my heart weakens. The pain returns... I can feel it again. Lodged in my back and seared over, yet not removed.
In a moment of weakness and doubt, tainting karma with the blood of my decisions, I have blackened this part of me, turning from light.
My incarnation lives with this debt from the bleak past. These wounds will not heal until I have changed and the sickening, dormant hate is released.
When the shaman looked into my eyes, grasping my wrist to restrain the malice of my intentions, he glanced into cold vacancy festered with wrath.
Hampuy! Calling on the great winds now.
Into silence, I descend my mind. Focusing on the extraction of my past; arrows thrown to the flame.
The callosity rips from the scars. These old marks I've forgotten and left alone can now be sealed and cleansed.
Every night, I've relived the attacks sworn against me, pushed away out of my thoughts. Acceptance had escaped me.
The longer I hold on, suffering from this and my own mind,
the longer I lose faith in this world- letting blindness take me.
No more controlling me. I let go of the scorn latched within.
showing no empathy for those whom seek out to berate me.
Calling on the great winds now.
Into silence, I descend my mind. Focusing on the extraction of my past; arrows thrown to the flame.
The callosity rips from the scars. These old marks I've forgotten and left alone can now be sealed and cleansed...
and cleansed...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
