On top of His mountain, I pray all alone. I call this peak my resting place and these rocks my home. I know their purpose and I know their calling. No longer do I thinking of you, no longer am I fallen. I do not look down anymore, having finished my roaming. I've looked forward to the sky ahead and focus on mental hoaning. This Oddessey with no Penelope return, such as the epic of Homer. I plan to spend this life a man, one flesh divided as a loner. I look to the skies. I travel to the land of Angles. I make no stops, no looking back, for I have all the trouble I can handle. I no longer need you here. You were here, then began leaving by the sea. I dream of you no longer, forced from my mind and no longer cleaving unto me. No longer holding your hand. No longer seeing red. But seeing transparently you here, for to me, you seem dead. And what was left of you, has died. And remains only a dust. Renewing in my mind what I saw and thought of you in the earth's crust. We'll see if this seed suffices to rebuild anew. What I felt for you, what I had for you, and what you had for me too. -Suffer me to read with understanding. --Signed, Isaac
