Back to the beginning,
She questions things that she feels,
Until her brain reels spinning thoughts
that ought not be thought,
picking up old threads, and dialogue
from years gone by,
she sits and wonders…
“Should I cry? Should I?
Should I seek another path, a road,
another hat to wear? Should I dare
to even ask what this is…
what this is… may be a mask.”
And trust not easily found
begins to spin another round.
She stands at the crossroads
placing down her many loads
and trappings from the past,
Once more, looking north and south,
waiting, emitting a cry of silent pain
across the Universe whose refrain
echos dancing on distant stream.
She screams once more a primal shout,
I will not doubt…and crumbles, mumbling I will not doubt.
The silent scream…swells up again, stretching
her limits, bearings, and destinations, fetching
something from deep within those self-made wars
with scathed lips whispers hoarsely “where are the doors…”