No Sight Of Tracks...

how many times, must i die today? my arms are weary, my eyes are blurred. how many soul trinkets, must i bury in the sand... only to walk away, leaving no footprints? i know nothing, but what i hear and i taste. i have no baggage, and no epitaph. this body but seed, this spirit but rain... i long for the wind, the web, and the hill! when bones become wings, and forever tiny buds. then night and day, can no longer be strangers. and i then become love, as miracle becomes birth. i hear the sound of the train, yet no sight of tracks!