Blind Wayfarer.

A place less of matter and more of mind, a labyrinth of shadows and light.

Small things wander in emotions both deep and soft, little wayfarers explore the turns and haze.

But one, so young and wise, lingers to watch and ponder. Every stop yields another trinket she uses to shape and mold her.

Dark are some perceptions she examnings, things both hurtful and morbid.

She believes that her place is obscurity, the beams of light stabbing through the gloom for the pilgrims elsewhere.

Eyes never turned inward, always out. Blind to the beauty she wields upon her small form.

Her passing noticed by all, the sliver lucent of that small and tender form weaves ever onward in that place of thought and soul.......