The ink changes,
but the truth remains.
The star shines
despite the clouds that hover,
giving way to a mist lover
amidst grass, leaves, trees,
roots that cover
memories.

Losing phrases from gestures,
by jesters teasing with letters
fleeing without rhyming footprints.

Running away from change,
the selfishness remains.
Tranquility as sacrifice -
burned at the pyre,
disguised to be wise.
her spirit cries -
"I never lied, the actions were mine.
but leave the ash to scatter.
Maybe they will resurrect and rise."

Time will tell.