Further from flesh..
The ancients celebrated death as if the greatest gift in life. We do everything possible to stay in this place which is not our own. We are more celestial than terrestrial. We have always contained something else. A bit extra.
That couldn't be explained by written text, so we sang. Lifted voices into sounds only decipherable by comparing the howls of owls and water moving across grains of sand.
More majestic than purple hilled mountain peaks, a peek into the past blinds most and forces the listening to cease their speech.
We lose the purpose of our verbs in our exaggerated verbage. This touch is enough.