She was sick and there was no use denying.
If she didn’t find aid, she was surely dying.
Time would be wasted sitting around crying.
Salvation depended upon no more lying.
The demons were there and were very real.
She knew precisely what they hoped to steal.
There were gaping wounds that needed to heal.
To find a heart of peace and mind that was still.
The journey cleanses; with smoke and fire.
Searching for truth, never to tire.
Witness birth, construct the pyre.
Live the love, kill the desire.
365 days in a sanitary quiescence.
An equinox season of evanescence.
A dawn of dark obsolescence,
necessitating recuperative convalescence.
Embrace the respite with out an air of despair,
Every traveler eventually passes through there.
Following the moon on a triple dog dare,
chasing the planets to their horizon lair.
Dusk indeed will lead to midnight,
The dark; a seed evolves into fright.
Lest she is freed to pursue what is right,
Bleeding alive; fooled by new daylight.
Each night collides as super novae collapse.
Leery each morning as the sunrise entraps.
Another day the universe warily wraps
opportunity in a shroud.