Restless hearts of this world who are moved so poorly inevitably inhabit a weight inside their souls. They wander these plains however briefly weighed down by this disturbance with existence. 

They see, and yet they do not see...until they are hollowed out by this weight and slip between the bonds of this world, the binding of the Earth. 

We are transient by our nature. We cannot stay, you see. And those who pass downward unto darker plains will inevitably drift into the garden where Shulva resided once so very long ago. 

Those who fall deeper however, slip beneath the waters of the lake and may come to hear another truth in the quiet murmurs of the darkest waters. The universe in all its unconsciousness breathes woefully...softly. Almost like one having the deepest, woeful dreams...

...and the dreams are us. 

Like stones, the most restless minds drift to this place...but should they have any humanity left within, they might hear a sound like that of a churning ocean, and see light like that from the moon. 

Those who fall deepest seldom understand they can move any which way they please. And so they see their path as that of the irredeemable. That they are irredeemable. The cruelest lie one will tell themselves is this. 

And if you might be there now.. listen closer...just...listen....you might hear a little whisper of truth from me even now...

In your lowliest of forms...in your darkest hours...

...I still see magic in you.

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Inspired by Paper Beast's " The Cave " which can be found here https://youtu.be/ih3JU_aLpQ0