In an old poem,
In the lining,
Of a double helix.
Only one switch,
Of the sequence,
Can remind if you wish.
Not from without,
But from within,
The spectrum turns to white.
True devotion,
If you listen,
Is written
In the wind.

Does desire
Rule the mental,
Turning truth into a fool?
No time in silence,
No time to listen,
No eyes to see it through?
Not from without,
But from within,
The spectrum turns to white.
True devotion,
If you listen,
Is written
In the wind.

Come up now,
To the mountain,
Where the air is sweet.
It is there that the wind sings,
The voice,
of wisdom speaks.
Not from without,
But from within,
The spectrum turns to white.
True devotion,
If you listen,
Is written
In the wind.