What is that Little Girl?

She stands within the great beyond,
observing the wondrous vastity of open streaming.
Curious about the air,
but not blind to being.

She gazes upon the beauty with an intellectual inquiry,
igniting and dazzling only those worthy of the essence.
For it looms about her psyche
and preys upon her vulnerability.

To what end shall the breeze carry her forth?
She perceives not the dangers among the light,
challenging and disrupting
the purity of her spirit.

Her Ultimate Faith unaffirmed;
she pushes the boundary with experiential joy.
Advancing into the current,
her feet loosened from the shore of perpendation.

Every breath a trial, every stride a rebirth,
she strolls in amazement
at the delicate nature
of esoteric ecology.

Shadows emerge at the corners
the great orb ignores.
The perfect geometry dissolves
the unblemished character of her story.

The ambient air shifts,
turning gelid
behind the blushing distraction
of the cherry blossoms.

Her Being concedes to its holding space,
idling quietly.
The fetters gradually manifest,
compounded by her protective energy.

Embedded in the background,
the embodiment of a feral vigilance.
The silent architect
of her most vivid recollections.

The Chief Builder
underneath the joy and pain,
the comfort and distress.
Sorting and organizing each morsel of experience,

obscuring the Divine Self
through a cascading affective state
of an unfolding reality.
She is.

Now sophisticated,
navigating subjectively beyond the conscious mind.
She searches near the Bodhi Tree.
In Light and meant for greatness she hasn’t realized.

Arising from an innocent catalyst
she moves profoundly
from pillar to post,
the façade becoming the foreground.

Laid down, eventually,
and the resurrection isn’t as welcoming.
Never living soul-free,
the spirit awaiting the call.

Be,
come,
with the universal.
What was that little girl?