these words you speak with such intrigue, twist in my mind revealing the stories of ancient times. i wonder what this has become and how long it will be till i'm left as the lonely one. hold back these fears and shove out regret. being known is such a big threat. where has myself gone, on a journey far from home, i found her lying in a field, unkempt and dirty clinching at my yield. "who are you dear one laying there under the sun?" "the reflection of the one", in simple adoration she replied. curiosity struck itself in me, "who are we dearself to claim such aristocracy?" "hypocricy" she cries to the top of her lungs, "you speak the language of the dead", "know this dear self we are one" a third voice said