flight of the butterfly, rising free
God, please hear my prayer
Show me you are here
Fill my soul with peace
Take away my fear
Rising in the morning
Felt the rays of sun
Thoughts of newness born
Peace comes from the one
Psychoses run rampant
in the flea-bitten hide
of the beaver
in autumn
Fleas' thirst is sated
by the blood of the lamb
standing
in the grass
Run through the fire
escaping the trap
of insane meanderings
of the mole