No Volition of my Own

Wash my solemn kisses down the shore
And touch the sea forevermore
Wind and weave me across a dessert endlessly
Reaching for a path I may or may not take
And not to know until my fingers pass through the one that's fake
This desert's full serenely of the past
And thoughts I thought were sure to never last
Like white bleached kisses of bones against soft green
My sighs fall softly into trenches hardly seen
Underneath the ground these feelings run
Gathering beyond the touch of morning sun
To trickle down the paths that they have made
Into the salted sea they seem to fade
All paths lead to this sea and all make up this quilt
Reflecting starlight and nightdark they dare not melt
By no volition of my own will I ever reach
A place where time and purpose always meet.

~Mika, November 4th, 2001