One yearning, one infancy, Trembling softly from the edges to the core, We emerge from a grave of churning seas, Knowing nothing of the world that came before. Aletheia From birth, we are blinded. It's real; it's raw. The dream is to find it... Aeries, aeidō, aeidō (For the air, I sing, I sing,) Aphanē o psūkhē, para ego (For the unseen spirit beyond myself,) Eirene zēto, (For the pursuit of harmony,) Anemos antiphone (For the wind sounding in answer,) Ambrotos isoraphē (For immortal nourishment.) Life beckons the soul again, From the mountains, From the rivers to the shore, But I can't release this memory - Of a phantom, of a wish - or something more?