She was a Messiah, with boys bowed at her knees.
But when their mouths a-gaped, she'd close them quickly, begging them not to speak.
She'd keep them close to fill a void. But no matter how many, it could never be solved.
So she took, and she took, never letting them touch.
Until now,
Where we have nothing.

And now I am no Messiah, more like the off grid Wise-Women.
Hidden within the thickets, on the edge of the forest.
Some still travel, and they do find me. But it's not the same as before.
They come to me for ailments of the mind and heart.
To listen to their woes of a past they can't leave behind.
When I out-stretch caring arms, they take a step back. Begging me not to come closer.

They take and they take, never letting me touch.
Because inside, they have nothing.

What a cruel turn of fate for the girl who fought her way through years of the past to be in the present once again.
Some may call it karma for my younger self's mistakes.
Now destined to starve the heart that was once filled till day-break.
So I sit awake at night full of other's worries in my mind.
Because if I cannot be desired, at least I can be useful.

I guess the young girl never learned how to simply exist.
Without the presence of transactional love, she may as well be extinct.
This is no way to live.
You will never feel whole if there is still a quiet, constant longing to fix or be fixed by someone else's soul.

So I sit in the stillness of my isolated garden.
With nothing more than the damp, mossed floor and early dawn chorus.
I may be on my own, but I am never lonely.
I am one with the world around me.
I am the Wise-Women.