She sees another star fade before her crystal eyes.
Another dream floating away on the wings of her heart.
Another need being forced back into her intestines
And flushed out with her bowels.
She cannot dance anymore
Because the music is not calling her.
She screams for the night time where the richness of rain
And thunderstorms
Beckon her into deep tunnels of sleepless nights.
She is bark drifting downstream.
Her spirit is broken like the wings of a wounded bird.
Where is her signature in a world where she is the star
Of her morning?
Where is the composer to write her music? To sing her songs of glory?
Where is the glue to piece her spirit back together again?
She can no longer write her story nor sing her song,
For she is afraid.  Afraid of a moving world that is leaving her behind.