A Free Spirit

Her voice is soft but true,
A tender breeze crying,
A gentle ripple laughing,
Innocence made worldly by pain.

Making her way through the world,
As velvet glides through the air,
Observing, searching,
With patience that knows no time.

Wandering rather than lost,
Her wings cannot be clipped,
For she is as close to freedom as can be,
And will wither if tied to the ground.

She is not to be reserved in advance,
But only met through the heart,
Not owned or won in battle,
But given freely and for a time.

For she does not prune the trees beside her,
Nor conquer the rocks beneath,
She lets the universe run free,
Seeking only to love and be loved.

She is no angel or goddess,
Nor does she want that calling,
She is human and of this earth,
But she lives from the soul.