In the hazy
shallow depths
of sterile screams
she wilts away
in the sacred grove.
Filled with absence,
this void,
she reaches within
the blackness
of vitality.
Pouring down
from blue heavens,
these silver
streaks of life
gently carress
passionate weeps
of sorrow.
She is.
In the silent
reverie
of stigmatic
and twisting paths.