I gathered all my learning, and I’m sending it to drift backwards. Like a message in a bottle, it might help a friend I will never make.
I have slept enough, beneath the Lighthouse
that carries the left over weight of old times,
old rhymes,
and some carefuly spoken words.
Now, I put them to rest,
alongside silence that’s drowning
beneath breaking waves.
The clouds, they take shape. To comfort the storm.
Heartbroken,
she would rather not come –
why spill all her power and force
on all of those
who blindly worship
the rising Sun?
Spirit of Tara 