There is the chill of transition sharply hanging in the evening air
Wandering as close to Creation as I am able to fathom, part of my heart weeps
My hands are too fragile to grab at the veil, pulling it as a dark pool at my feet
To see the brilliance of what pours fourth behind forbidden sight
There are moments as the winds tear slowly into my being
That I am alone
There are moments when I deny who I am, perhaps because my spirit goes against the grain
There are moments when my soul speaks lifting my voice in song
And is drowned by rejection because most do not understand the rhythm and the beauty of my ancestry
It is then I step out into the comfort of Creation, where the sweet breezes carry the cure for what ails me
The veil clearly wavers in the transcendent colours of the dying sky
And there is where my steps could carry me
And yet, even as my soul wishes to submit this life
Her Footsteps echo in the recesses of my heart
Reminding me, acknowledging me, healing me
Allowing me to continue
The Gypsy must continue to wander, even as the waters lap and play around my feet
The promise of an ocean that flows before me, a reminder, a reward
The sea calls flowing through time and space, clinging to my life
The joy, the love, the mercy and grace
And my heart shall sing forevermore.
