Echoes without footsteps
Lost somehow
All alone

The mist is rolling in
Which way to choose
The treacherous way
After all, what is there to lose

It seems,you always follow the wrong path
The Moons gentle touch
And the way is clear at last

Embrace what was nearly destroyed
Your spirit is more powerful than you know
Now, for yourself has become of yourself
On this journey you grew

Wendi Hirschy-Boutwell
April 1999