The day had come to barter humanistic views
With those of a higher calling. This child born into a world
Of saints and sinners was neither or, but a different energy.
It was not that when she smiles souls are revealed.
It was not that when she walks the wind blows in her favour.

It was not that her every thought
Produced unimaginable results. It was not that when she looks
She saw a million moments in one. But it was more of the things
It was not and less of what others wanted her to forget.

Her mind carries broken arms and
Steps in the direction of the lame. Her umbilical connected
To the souls that see no end
An ear to the future of those who have cut off their own.

She is memory to the forgotten liberation
And a struggle in the
Empathetic adventure of torturous infinite souls.
Those who are yet to seize Mt. Everest know
She is worthy of the journey.
For even if it takes a million in moments to get to her.
The only way is the top.