The mountains called out her name,
She spoke with them,
In a language understood by none.
One of those conversations,
That take place one night,
And are forgotten the next.
Too deep to be understood,
Too quiet to be heard,
Too sacred to be mentioned again.
She was sober, yet high,
She was sober, yet high,
Alone, yet accompanied.
She was surrounded by no one,
But her own shadow,
Her own breath.
She could laugh without being judged,
Could dance without being seen,
Left with herself, her solitude.
And in this solitude, she found herself.
Comments
Post a Comment