A Verse

Zero instinct.

Blank slate.

Nature versus nature.

White out on the soul.

Countless past lives unknown.

A rich inner life muted by fate.

Love is ethereal.

Back from the dead

By merely being born,

The wanderer has found her home.

Years pass.

Seasons cycle.

Another spoke in the wheel

Will be complete before

She even knows it was spun.

To the future she climbs

A mountain of hope

To reach not enlightenment

But a refinement of spirit.

A prayer to an ancient goddess,

And burned coffee sipped

To the melody of harmony and chaos,

Dancing like sisters in

A field of memories.