she speaks the language of passion
she listens to the songs of the wind
she walks the deserts, the woods and the hills
she laughs with the hearing and cries with the blind.
her footprints lie scattered on the sand
her home is the ghettos, the streets and the land
her songs echo in the valleys below
her body sways to a silent beat
she lingers in forests
she dwells all alone
she ventures mist-shrouded mountains
she lives on the edge of forever
her dreams are in colour
her cry a call from the soul
to her, reality is just an illusion
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