Saloman hung down her head
laid bare her heart for the world to see.
She craved for intimacy.
Through darkened doors her aspect veiled with indecision, gazed out to sea.
She craved lucidity.

Cast adrift from past relationships in her life,
hoisted up the ideal. This was her saving grace.
Seas of rage that once assailed her concern for the truth
had passed her by and left her high and dry in her saviours [sic] arms.

Across the sea lies the fountain of renewal,
where you will find the whole cause of your loneliness
can be measured in dreams that transcend all these lies
and I wish and I pray that there may come a day for a saviours [sic] arms.