The Beat of Your Own Drum
Roaming around lonesome with no friend to speak
My days have reached there peak
I can and only think
To express this missing lost trink
With destanys that have not been seen
From the likes of any beings
I cease to exist now with altered perception
indefinitely striving measuring up a certain perfection
My etheric body which does not have a physical form
Is on a path that cannot be walked upon
This cannot be seen, heard or felt
But can only be reached by knowing ones self
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