leaves conceived into solemn reverence,
tenderly commune with the wind,
with no voices to speak,
wisdom is bequeathed through sultry dance,
a frenzied swaying to an asperous tempo,
yearning to whisper life’s arcane truths
souls not forged of her divine breath,
are woefully inept to comprehend.
preaching the parables that make the clouds tear,
she exhales to shape mighty mountains,
achievements, despondent, seek praise,
all while children born of her breast,
depart to become breath for the living,
lost descendants of the ancient ones,
give little thought to whence they came,
and practice self-praise amid her despair.
silent screams swell from her breast,
to subtly languish among dying stars,
some defiant vibrations resonate in youthful souls,
unsure the origin of such turbulence,
never has manifested more paradoxical torture,
a beauty so pure, all suitors unworthy of admiration,
her trembling hands nervously caress a young girl’s hair,
and her lover perceives this beauty her own.