She ventures forth upon her birth
 Pursuing silver strands of light
Among the shadows of the earth,
 Yet gently out of sight…

Without regrets o'er beauty lost,
 She creeps along each fragile stem
Indulging passions without cost,
 And no one dares condemn…

A rising flow of apathy
 Seeps daily from her hardened heart
And thickens with the foul debris
 She's garnered from the start…

Entrapped within the viscous ooze,
 She struggles with her final breath
To find a different path to choose
 Besides this shroud of death…

She ponders deep what life has been;
 Each vain pursuit, which led astray
And left her soul as dry as sin—
 A husk to blow away…

Perhaps a new beginning waits
 Above the leafy canopy—
A golden set of garden gates
 To which God holds the key…

As hubris cracks and falls away,
 The silver strands of light return
To lift her spirit gone astray
 Above perdition's burn…

Behold! A new creation soars
 Upon her multicolored wings
And decorates the world outdoors
 By weaving silver strings.