Why did I come back, again and again into this world?
Through the fog between the worlds,
Where restless cries keep calling me, “Come back”!
I cannot hear them.
There, through the fog, is the world, where my soul rushes so.
You cannot stop me anymore; you cannot hold me.
I’m enchanted!
The grass that is waist-deep cries out, “Hold on”!
Green birds (they’re truly green) in scarlet trees (they’re truly scarlet) shout along, “Don’t go”!
But can enchanted hear?
The fog, an old ally of the lost,
An ally of the prodigal sons,
Purposely laid the way,
So that no one can see what lies ahead.
It was in vain.
Enchanted mensee nothing anyway.
Could they attract their old karmic bonds?
No idea.
The conscience under spell is clouded.
Why did I come back?
I do not know.
12/15/2016