( LOVE OUT LOUD ) When I first began my journey, I was lifting my head as high as I could stretch it that I could catch a glimpse of my singular self wandering about without its host, walking in goodness with all the other like-minded spirits. I suppose it was to my benefit that the spirit of self went wandering, as they will, outside of the vessel which my legs hauled about without joy, without peace, without a firm grasp of love. I rose up to see that my shell was busy rummaging through the shadows for something resembling proof which I sought as if it were lungs for another gasp of air. It was love’s embrace that I frantically hunted, and along the way I discovered a more comprehensible portrait of who I've always been. “It is what we do that matters most, not what we believe.” Those words escaped my lips with ease and with the accustomed speed I’d grown comfortable with as if they were were the hugs of children or the calming affections of a mother or father, or...
(The Weaver's Song)