She was a huntress
She was a hungry soul
She was a lovelorn heart
As she followed that falling star
She forgot
She lost
She left behind
Gently crafted stories
Softly weaved realms
Lovingly warmed brews.
Phials full of delight
Tapisseries full of light
Words full of might.
She went on,
The moon waned and waxed.
The leaves grew and fell.
The snow frosted and melted.
She went on,
Her heart rose
Her heart burst
Her heart scattered.
She went on.. Until.
Her limbs became stone.
Her voice became a croak.
Her heart became an acorn.
The fallen stars had scattered away in a placid lake.
And she was silent.
And she was alone.
And she was defeated.
Patience.
Silence.
Fortitude.
Where should she go now?
How could she go on now?
Why should she go on now
Couldn’t move.
Couldn’t stay.
Couldn’t leave.
Roots shot from her toes.
Bark crept over her heart.
Twigs sprang from her hair.
The chase was just an illusion.
Now was starting the true transformation.
Is it painful to lose your feathers?
Is it painful to grow new wings?
Is it painful to breathe again?
Pain is the fuel of life…
How much pain in a life giving supernova.
How much pain in a life giving tempest.
How much pain in a life giving magma.
It may look like destruction
The bursting star.
The torrential rain.
The boiling fusion.
It is a destruction of
Illusions
Confusion
Passion.
And a lull…
Scattered debris orbiting into one
Water reaching deeply entwined roots.
Ashes covering the bountiful soil.
Hope will be found again…
In silent tears.
In quiet pain.
In gentle patience.
Somewhere.
Some day.
Someone.
Softly.
The huntress
The hungry soul.
The lovelorn heart,
Was a maiden again.
Barefoot
Bareheaded
Baresouled.
Here I am…
For another dance.
For another hope.
For another life.
Let it be
Let me be
Let me be free.
Layla Ali Sultan 