The seeds we plant in lifetimes faded
bear fruit in the desires of our tomorrows.
My longing for the constancy of the sorrows
was born of an existence, long outdated.

The desire to change what will be
cannot ever awaken in me.
Forever dormant, the thought must remain;
the force of the stone will not wane.

Unless miracles spring from my thoughts
as the butterfly is born of the worm.
A spark of life given by the embrace
unyielding karma, moved only by Grace.