THE WANDERING SPIRIT
THE WANDERING SPIRIT Tangled under an abyss of darkness; My heart yearns for the watering of a desolate soul. My soul cries out and screeches with the witches’ mandrakes And I reject my spirit being. The fears of yesterday are an avalanche in my soul disturbing the sanity and sanctity in me. It leaves me strapped in a gothic cave of imbalance. Find me the balance if this cursed world, And with every fibre in me, I will bow in hasty gratitude. I am on the run for freedom For everything in me must burn slowly In the light at the end of the tunnel.