She looks so frail, that bitter thing,
Fighting back the air.
The shadows hollow out her mind,
Though she would not leave there.
The shadows are her lifeless home,
Though emptier they seem
Than all the pains of all the world
She's tasted by her dreams.
She dreads the thought of consciousness.
She fears his waking life.
She suffers wills of shadow beasts
And oft succumbs to strife.
But little does that poor girl know
That shadows thick and dark
Are born upon the wings of light,
Of peace, of love, of art.
The very place she will not leave
Is forcing her to die,
When all the while her last hope
But one step farther lies.
7/29/04
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