In the days of old, a story was told of
a girl so fine with words of wine and auburn hair like mine,
It begun in the days far behind the memories of men of
magnificent minds,
the woman wove wondrous and wonderful
tales of times ...
she sailed away through mysterious mazes of forests and
faces and thoughts and places
She cantered through
caverns of concepts
She consciously wandered in dreams
Dreams with schemes and scenery yet unset to scenarios
yet unseen.
she was the only one to see what soon all would be
revealed...
From the highland's omniscient perspective
we looked upon life
strangers/observers observe,
do not live to effect some odd outcome
When the future is yet to be writ...
so come what may, lo and behold - the wind of time blows
breathlessly let it blow
For neither the girl or you truthfully know
What the future may behold