The masked soul watching the world pass

Far away behind polished glass

Like a spark, small and unseen

Scrutinizing, critical, precise and mean

Shaved to points and thin dashes

Turning life’s spontaneity into ashes

As people talk about the glass ceiling

Breaking down barriers instead of just feeling

The spark of life at the end of the rainbow nerve

Where soul meets heart, breath and verve

Longing the song of mother earth

Drinking sour milk in memory of a forced birth

Lost connection to one and other

Now pollution does gravely smother

Rome’s ghostly colosseum

At present, only an outdoor museum

While home becomes an endless spectacle

The self is distant, judgemental and dialectical