where the writers are

                                                           LILLITH'S SONG


                                                                  I am

                                                  swaying to an ancient rhythm

                                           listening to familiar voices inside

                                      patiently holding out for moments like this


                                                            suspended in air

                                    gliding smoothly alongside destiny

                                 I shape and reshape

                                                      at will

                       painting a canvas

                         with scattered memories

                                      and shattered dreams

                                          oil stroked remainders

                                                          clinging to stretches of mind

                                             Time pushes forward

                                                  a pendulum

                                                     holding the past 

                                                           as it moves on

                                                                    blinks of bliss

                                                                               short lived spasms

                                                                                            spark the day