Unruly are those that come in disguise
No sorrow sets upon the lightness of these beings
Already dead, do they seek new life
since all that is dead wants to live,
Life is precious, one often realizes in retrospect.
Those who are unruly know what it is like.
They can see, fly, be anywhere they might
Haunted are those who disrespect the dead
Who would have thought its only the living with power
blinded by the earth, the comfortable illusion
To hide the horrors that lay elsewhere,
A flaming core hidden with gems
No one is truly free.