IlaydaIsHiding

Daughter of myths, sister of sadness, muse of time
As the currents swirl and the lilies bloom, I fold my petals and withdraw from the world that knows me in another form. 
I am but a mist in the morning, soaking the grass with dewdrops for a little while, then disappearing again. When the attachments of the soul appear around me, my grief rises up to swell around my heart, and I turn away to process my life inside the icy cold waters of the lake where time is fluid.
In these churning bubbles, sunlight plays out distortedly across my face.
Unable to become deeply involved with this people, having lost my relevance, I mourn my transcendent heart here.
Raindrops splash soundlessly into the pond, the lotuses are crying for me....