Come to the temple of grace,
Come to the place where you'll soon see my face.
Why believe in death soon?
Tuck yourself away, quietly under the moon.
I know you are stuck inside of a cocoon,
I know you are stuck;
I know we, for the most part, are out of touch with our child-like selves,
As if our kindred spirits have hidden away on some shelf.
Tuck yourself to sleep while you softly quiet your mind.
Tuck quietly away,
In a dream now, or reality soon...
Be away from the toxicity that opens your wounds.
So, meet me under the moon,
Meet me under its temple of grace.
Clasp your hands around my face;
Kiss me for a while,
See into my eyes, while I love yours.
Kiss fate in the lips that have upset you,
But you will understand the baby when she blooms..
Believe,
Believe that there are precious moments to weave
Our visitations are urgent, begotten to splurge on;
Your thoughts and words are of substance,
Your qualities are abundant,
You have taught me wonders.
I cherish your greeting,
Our souls dance when meeting.
