Window to Her Wondrous Soulby
lynnesiteComment: She is aeons old, and wise beyond compassion.
My spirit grows by measure that she gives:
a knowledge that all paths will come together
in stone and mist, and in that mist she lives.
She is fleet hoofbeats far across the plain
of man's beginning, endless waves of horse
flowing like some primoridal sea to sweep us
across remembrance on our mortal course.
Flowing like some vast sea. And I float now,
vague and adrift, in deep currents down her eyes,
losing myself, remembering how I will
(when my time comes) fade into misty sighs.
-Robert Ward (Bear_Music)
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