She moves, and free she goes;
But for one so fair ere be nigh,
Here linger and follows the path,
For bitter wind her eyes do tear,
Alas, if not the rain she soothe,
More to see the clouds high ye clash.

Yonder sees: yonder gets;
The prism that she crafts channels
A great light that beams ever more,
Nor greater than sun but better,
Soon to reveal her a sight in lieu,
There inviting, and here going.

Once arrived, all in wait;
In finding herself looking through,
An adorning height from she sees
The entire world in majesty,
A phoenix that fans her flames wide,
The sun beheld; her life regained.

Thence returns but wonders:
That dream she had to be real,
Only but patches here and there,
So true as is and hers founded,
Thus the new air and fair respires,
Reels in her happy state and lives.

Category:
Life, Poetry, Works
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