The outstrippers


We circle the states of being, 
Searching for a an open gate,
So we can dwell in the garden of solitude.
Don’t slander us, we’re distracted, we can’t wait.

We’re always looking for the gate.
We’re searching for our gathering,
We’re yearning for our song,
The cry unto divine love,
The seclusion, the abandonment of our self.
The immeasurability or what’s right or wrong.

The out-strippers He called us,
And outstrip we proceed,
We leave the laymen idle,
And love map tapestry do we weave.

We spin, we spin,
Waiting to be let in
We circle and spin
Until it falls off us
And we’re left with no sin.


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