A quick note.

And with the past firmly tucked under tongue she discovered a way unseen by those who came before
A path hidden by a tree with long branches  In the wood
She captured the thumping of her heart in her hand, calming her senses and struggling for courage
It was a dance she knew
A perfect ballet preordained with movements precise
But to break free of the chorus she must only see
With eyes wide open that which lay askew
A twig snapped, a leaf fallen, a print left in the snow
Some had come here before
Each step is not measured by one’s hope but in strength eternal and stretched like an endless stream
It twists and it turns on itself and it keeps one hidden from the truth that can only be found when one faces
Reality with brutal and true recognition
There is no control
There is only freedom
To take each step and move with a determination certain of one’s direction
The die is not cast like a gambler’s crutch
There is more
Within the shadows and outside of blacks and whites
There is more
To capture this one might find a freedom braver than the laugh of the crone, the jester, or the ghost
For they were blind
Too blind to see that with the act of surrender to ones deepest desires
Set within vines and thorns and pain there can be a truth
More certain than the ideal.
More certain than the girl herself
It is not of hope that bridges are built and walls torn
But of knowing that with ones own hands
A temple may be built
If only an internal sanctuary.