To the tree which falls with no one to hear it,
To the soul which passes with no one near it

Life is but the passing of events;
A single thread in the myriad of webs.

We live and act as we do- moving singularly...
Forward as does the stream which gargles and ebbs.

We flail blindly in the dark for the promise of the sea-
that image of beauty and of peace,

Yet, just as the blind man, we are lost- weaving and
Winding our ways with an uncertainty which never leaves.

"When the heart is full, the tongue will speak".
I find this more true than ever.

I am destined to wonder blind, though embrace it
I must, for freedom will be mine forever.