Through the maze of endless twists, she walked.
Unknown to the trees, to the wind, to the sky.
She glided over the sands like the ghost of a lost thought.
She is quiet now, quiet as the starry night.
But once she had laughed. When the oceans still had their waves.
When the clouds still broke into rain.
When the flowers still held their fragrance.
But she is quiet now, quiet as the starry night.
Her eyes were arid. Her feet bled.
But she walked on barefoot through the thorns of a once flower laden path.
She didn’t care about the end. She didn’t care about the means.
What mattered were the steps
That her small feet took