Shattered dreams on sprinkled sand dunes
Comes alive once again to take form
A fragile woman is born to walk.
Like the graceful arched weeping willow
She drips her unshed tears on her pillow.
Nightmares clamour to become
Her reality of living dread
And she passed fear of acrimony.
She finds a voice but no sound,
She finds a walk but no path,
She finds a being but no soul.
She finds all but held null,
While her search is still on.