her soul had yellow paper wings
perched on wind currents
there shone in any direction
too much stillness to move her
an unaccepted form awaited
the small earth with reaching vines
petals in all directions
with nothing else anywhere
she wished to come
to light three candles
in dead night with all directions
gone imbued herself with
something new and fleeting
that eternity for he who waited
for one moment
thus ended his wait
she devoured and departed
cast filament
and her soul shattered