In the most tragic times,
life unlocks its mysteries
Wide, open for the receiver
I am not me.
I am the breeze that blows on high mountains
I am the waves that crashes on the shore
I am the flower that blooms and dies
I am the soul
A brilliant, indestructible, diamond self.
Not touched by environment
Not bent and crumpled iron mass
Soaking yet not dripping
Swirling like a light ribbon.
I am not me
I am the soul.