I see an eternal sunrise
My feet leave the ground
Pulled by a cord of power
Pure and without flaw
The rise of the wind is mine
Mountains turn into cloud
Clouds struck to mountain
The forests grow upon the heavenly realms
In colours you don’t know about
lineages of flowers sprout
Each their own kind
Golden age! You purely-spun weave
Even when no direction exist
I turn toward you
Send me not elsewhere
Lead nobody astray
From the floods of honey
seas of nectar
and the very hum of wings
- Resplendent swarms of fairies