By the waters of Babylon,
there we sat down and wept,
when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there we hung up our lyres.
For there our captors required of us songs,
and our tormentors mirth,
saying ‘sing to us songs of Zion’.
How shall we sing the Lord’s song
in a foreign land?

willows are graceful
Babylon is beautiful
yet something in me remembers Paradise
that realm we lost when we fell into the earthplane
where peace is vulnerable
souls are seducible
forms reveal and conceal
the Formless

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