Dalai Lama

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An airplane is in the evening wind.
On board is a man with his child as well.
They sit secure and warm and so they fall into the trap of sleep.
In three hours they will be there for mama's birthday.
The view is good, the sky is clear.

Onwards, onwards into destruction.
We must live until we die.

Humans don't belong in the sky
So the lord in Heaven calls his sons to the wind.
Bring me this human child.

The child has still lost time.
Then an echo jumps to his ears
A muffled rumbling drives
the night and the driver of the clouds laughs.
He shakes the human cargo awake.

Onwards, onwards into
destruction.
We must live until we die.

And the child says to the
father Don't you hear the
thunder? That's the king of all the winds. He wants me to become his child.

From the clouds falls a choir
which crawls into the little ear.
Come here, stay here.
We'll be good to you.
Come here, stay here.
We are your brothers.

The storm embraces the flying machine.
The pressure falls quickly
in the cabin.
A muffled rumbling drives
the night.
In panic the human cargo
screams.

Onwards, onwards into
destruction.
We must live until we die.

And to God the child pleads:
Heaven take back the
wind bring us unharmed to
earth.

From the clouds falls a choir which crawls into the little ear.
Come here, stay here.
We'll be good to you.
Come here, stay here.
We are your brothers.

The father is now holding
onto the child and has pressed it tightly against himself.
He doesn't notice its difficulty in breathing but fear knows no mercy so with his arms the father squeezes the soul from the child.
Which takes its place upon the wind and sings:
Come here, stay here.
We'll be good to you.
Come here, stay here.
We are your brothers.

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