A poet who has lost her reason to rhyme
forgets: there is no truth another can define.
And time is tried—
yet chains on the soul are never refined,
for they are fortified in the minds eye;
the songs of the soul cannot be confined.

A lie—
to unwind and untie,
to simply pass by—
to try and retry
to reign high
and ascend to the sky
leaving behind
what has already died.