You only call me when I don't seem to want to hear from you. When I think that I have it all figured it out thats when you ring me and that there is a painful echo that blares in the chasms in mind. I thought that I had lost any attachment, but you remind that I still have some and that I don't want to let go fully of the false reality. There are still things I cling to and then you ring me in a way that is both majestic like a blind condor that seems to have better sight then a telescope that sees off into the galaxy's infinite space where light travels back and forth and words cease to explain its size to a mind that views mountains as large. That is all dwarfed by the magnitude that can only humble you to the point that you feel yourself trembling shaken in a way that almost nothing else seems capable of doing. When you ring I fall apart or at least my facade starts to crumble and yet beyond your ring there is a greater ring that is forever linked with all the surrounding sounds.
We are at that point and we don't know where or when but we know that we can fly if we just suspend our reality and going into the smallest often forgotten inner sanctum that holds a constant prayer to know the creator even if our everyday plans don't make room for such an endeavor.