Feel the cold water of my soul,
tickle, turn and tease,
it wants the fields, the grass, the land,
wants to cleanse, the mind, the hand.
True freedom, remains unknown,
stopped by sand, salt and sky,
unattainable freedom, to but be,
untainted, unhindered, just me.
Sky, winds blowing high,
playful pretty patterns,
blowing hats away upon the hills,
playing with, the fins of mills.
Land reveling in difference and change,
personality shown in unique flowers and trees,
Ignorant of purity, of contamination,
Impure water, an abomination.
Water, soiled by sand and sin,
purity is the true nightmare,
scared to change, to speak,
knowing strength, but feeling weak.
