What is this crude matter called flesh?
It is a prison I say.
It surrounds and traps me.
Numbs my senses and feelings it does.

No more can I soar among the sky.
No more high, free, and light,
No more freedom among the stars.
This body anchors me to the ground.
My wings strain against the weight,
But to no avail.
This body surrounds me and chains me,
Chained I am to the ground below.

No more can I feel.
Light fingers searching for emotion sent out.
They feel only cold dead things.
Other souls trapped in flesh.
I burn for the touch of another,
Another who's soul burns as bright.
But the others are trapped as I,
This flesh numbing all senses.

What do you say to me?
I do not understand.
These windows are too gray.
I see not you pain,
Hear not your inner cry for help,
Can not feel your love.
Oh how I long to feel the warm embrace of love.
I see your love trapped within, but feel only the gray.

What am I to do?
I must find another,
Another whose soul burns so bright.
So that together we might,
Might burn though this flesh,
And finally reach each other.
To finally reach one another and be one,
To finally be together and complete.

Copyright Eric Stryker 1991, 1997