Pray, my motto is to fret not about what happens on Earth
My motto is to focus on what shall come next
Yet, when the afterworld
Remains connected to this one
When its foundation
Depends on this one
How am I to keep my motto alive
How am I to tackle life
When, in the very end,
My essence sums me up as being mere woman!
Mere woman bound by rules
By ethics, by laws, by stereotypes
By traditions, by a set of conventions!
Mere woman, frail on the inside
Yet, seemingly strong on the outside
Betrayed only by the sensitivity which is radiated
From my limpid eyes!
The meaning of mine own existence
Has been unveiled
The meaning of mine own existence
Shall be followed in the next one
To it, I do submit
As leaves do fall, by themselves, in winter,
As flowers do bloom, by themselves, in spring
As bees do buzz joyfully, in the summer
As bears do get ready to sleep, in autumn
And as tides do follow the moon's pull!
Why, instinctively, so do I follow my meaning
As without it,
Existing would be so void
And would cause my soul to crumble
As easily as would man made structures
When faced with nature's rage!
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