Who could say what promise time holds as proof of eternity laced glory?
What sage or mage could undress the veil of space shadow faced with worry?
When was it placed for the day heavy with praise for the unborn and long gone?
Whom was it that could shape the very passion of a raging hurricane?
Why was it given to me dressed as a maiden gift less of all worry full of fill?
What happens to the voids filled with nothing but the loneliness of a child?
~Koome Manyara.
Stories From Somewhere In Life 