Pages turning softly in the mournful wind
A stranger passes by
Igniting additional wind
That keeps the book alive
Until it reaches its end;
A blank brown eye stares upwards
Mama! Papa! Love!
The stranger looks back
Stares at the hands holding the empty book
"I cannot yield to you."
The book falls.
And the body of the hands screams out
Thief! Reckless thief!
The stranger turns around
An insane gleam in her wandering eye
She turns and runs
Laughing wildly in the clouds of sin
I gasp for breath
A goddess of authentic beauty-
Has left me nothing but an empty book,
Filled with empty words,
That do not cross the lines of Fate.