life's not a mystery to be pondered
but a glimpse at all the possibilities
	of human kind
~~~
the hand that writes the words
	belongs to a woman
		jaded beyond many aspects
perhaps in seeing this she knows
	there are so few experiences
	she will ever wholly enjoy
time & time again
she walks in the world
	pen & paper nearby
to move her beyond the mundane
~~~
when she returns to her fortress
she wonders at it
for she has not made a home
	in many many years
she returns to packed bags
			boxes
			crates
		these things stored with
		a semblance of care
~~~
in these early hours when she wakes
she seeks the mirror
	looking perhaps for a vision
	of younger eyes that haven't seen too much
her laughter is real
her perceptions clear
her mind a walking library
	of facts & places
		these things she knows
		are stored away
much like her personal possessions
	they have a place and time
	and will be taken out when needed
~~~
of aspects there are many
for she moves in this world
	in many different faces
	in many different levels of openness
when she ventures out at all
it is with eyes that have seen too much
and a mind that knows more than it tells
	she is sad sometimes
	that the world she sees she cannot talk about
		but she accepts it
~~~
she is in love
and she is lonely
	she has at long last tasted
	that which calls for permanency
		that which is the face of her soul
and would be one in an aspect
	is with this mate till the end
	a better wife is all she wants to be
~~~
still she sees this world as something separate
	something she is not truly a part of
	too many stoned nights in smokie bars
		one too many lovers
		far too many tears
but turns her mind to lighter things
least she find herself pulled in
	taken out by a thought
	a trick of memory
~~~
she is me
	Spirits 122202 12/98

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