A Tale’s tale
As the day proceeds,
she willingly follows the voice.
The forest is reddened by dusk,
and by the warmth of her heart.
A chant comes from the deepness
of the forest,
chanting down her burdens of illusion,
leading to redemption.
In her solitude,
fear is but a faint image,
a black bowl, full of white feathers.
Imagination leads the blind,
and her dark path,
brimming with vivid white,
shatters as she reaches,
The chanting, now her heart’s beat.