My mind is a pathless forest.
My soul, a birch in bloom.
My life is the wandering journey.
My heart, the blooming flower.
I wander for years without number,
My light, the shine of the moon.
No daylight crosses my path
And I see merely feet before me.
When have I been more lost
Yet more trusting in what's to come?
When have I been more faithful
And yet more wanting of change?
Never have I been this way before.
- Winter




