From the lone soul
and the empty steppes
she wandered and worried
and landed on the quiet breath
She flowed on the dawn, bent on the flowers peeling petals of the past.
From the glorious soul
and the cherished lands
we wrote laments
and traced the marching prints
that crossed seas and rivers and in their journey
penned our script.
From the bare soul
and the mighty wind
We remembered and forgot and the happy days faded
The birds went silent the lights disappeared and the dark thoughts prevailed
The rains are digging, the sky’s unraveling and in the river, only remains its torment.