Sao Paulo

Less than a thousand years
Four days will do
To regain a clue
Through solitude
To remember the taint of hate
The thorns of fear
The concrete loneliness
Have no place with me today

That love, real love is the power of surrender;
Found elsewhere than the fantasies of repair
Among friends and strangers without a touch
Humane transactions beyond the rivers of currencies

That compassion is everyone