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