she has her maps and she even has her roads,
leading all across the world, so she is told,
every path is tried and every path partly true
she walks, she watches, yet none will lead her home
gone and lost in the varied colors of surrender
egoic towers, the waves, desires, grains of hope
philosophies falling as rain inside the soggy sand
awaiting consummation with undifferentiated land
Copyright © 2018 Stacey Harris