It takes strength to admit defeat.
To have a wish torn away from within my hands, by swift forceful winds.
To watch what I longed for become a shattered dream, soon to be erased, escaping even the memory of men, never getting the chance to become history.
Then, with no hope left, I reach for faith to keep me warm.
And I go on.
I walk through a twisted world where lightness becomes a burden, where I weigh myself down with the emptiness I carry inside.
Strangely, in this place, to feel empty weighs as a mountain of iron. I need to fill that void with much deeper dreams. I need to attach to them a much deeper meaning.
And I don’t want to go on anymore.
I want to go beneath.
To meet the song of wildflowers that also met their fate, and are enjoying this life after death,
creating magic that will reconstruct
one unclear, fragile dream
and forge desire
made not of fire
but of steel
Spirit of Tara 