Dharma
Her soul is pure solitude
A home where trees meets
The granite fists of mountain Gods
Her eyes burn of near enlightenment
Of the cyclic nature of humanity's truth
She blesses the rain, the fog
The. Mosquitos the jackdaws and the frogs
Wishes for nothing only the warmth
Of a early morning sun,
She has no need to fill the void
For void is what it's
The true nature of things
And her wisdom expands
Watching, listening
To the silence of the silent moon,
A spirit of near perfection confined
Within a decomposing cage
She sing songs to the winds
And lullabies to the clouds,
Just accompanying time within the void
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