gloriagypsy

My being dismantled, I wander the barren landscape Pieces retrieved, I slowly awaken, eyes heavy in dismay Remnants of past filter into being, lost yet found My labor becomes relevant, my heart beats a symphony A chill passes in the dream, haunted rumors abound inside Speak not the forgotten land, for home is now in the heart I rip free from the morass, stained by deception's clutch the self's death rattle is the soul's first breath of life; we are eternal.