Many know not my face,
For they refuse to look,
Verily, I am always near,
Abundant, agendaless.
A babe wakes from a deep sleep,
Perplexed by uncertainty,
An inward complexity,
Burning plans to ashes,
Ceasing all hope in the current state,
A babe, swallowed by the voices of the forest.
Silence gives way to chance,
In the heart of the woods,
A choice waits for you on a front porch.
The choice to see what you really are.
Many have stumbled my way,
Nay, their eyes could not see,
For the devil was fast stead in their mind.
They gushed over my dress,
Admired my garden,
and spoke as if impossibilities were impossible feats,
Until, at last, I lay a question to their heart,
"Then how did I come to be?"
The moon, after many passings,
Perchance leads a soul my way,
Who can ponder the weathered storms,
Instead of being led astray,
Balance seeks not to escape.
No longer a fool,
Yet, forever changing cards,
It is not the sun that leads you,
It is you who sees the sun.
-Celina Joan
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