The energy is raw 
Rising through the ancient folklore 
She rises so strong 
Then falls down, like she’s been beaten by the gong 

No swan song 
Just a violent gong 
The harder it beats
The more she retreats 

There’s no calm 
So alert she can’t disarm 
Tension builds 
She’s climbing an ever steeper hill 

Fighting to be heard 
Which may sound absurd 
But her mouth is taped 
Dark forces lie in wait 

She watches the trees
Leaves flutter in the breeze 
She sees them fall 
As the nightingale calls 

The old leaves 
They fly away in the breeze 
She sits down 
Refreshing her weary frown 

So much struggle 
Living within the the material bubble 
No space to hear 
Endlessly looking for a cure 

But really there’s nothing wrong 
Just the sound of the gong 
It unleashes the old leaves 
There’s no need for them to still hang from the trees

Sound derails 
The ancient tales 
It’s time for them to pass through 
Allow the birth of something new 

Written by Zoe Langman 26th July 2023