I thought there was loss, a feeling of death brought to me,

Alive, alive, two separate paths’ taken, gone and we go on and on.

A prisoner never was I, free to run through the fields’ of life,

No chains’ weighed down upon this mans’ moving body and soul.

The wind not seen has a strength and power fore we know It Is there,

Seen am I as the dark clouds’ of rain falling, I go with the wind blowing.

If no face had I, no body to see and judge, just a voice of words’,

Would you think something of me, a material being valued more?

Running with the wind gives me a friend which can not see to judge,

For me, I do not possess an Image fore we are both blind, only running.

Free to be, free to be me as live and…

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